Artful Dodger
by jlm110108
Summary: Don Eppes and his team are up against a very clever art thief. They once again enlist the help of my original characters Ben and Maggie Cole. Don't worry -- there are no "Mary Sues" in this story! It's all Eppes all the time. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Dr. Bennington Cole and his wife, Maggie, walked up to the entrance of the Norton Simon Museum. "I'm going to miss Pasadena," Maggie said.

"I will too, Love," Ben said, holding the door for her. "I never would have believed we'd make such wonderful friends at a university that specializes in science and maths."

"Not to mention helping the FBI solve one of the biggest art heists in history. I'm going to frame your article when it's published," she murmured, standing on tip toes to kiss Ben on the cheek.

"Ah, my biggest fan," he said as he gave her a squeeze. "Now, shall we at least try to act like professionals whilst we're in the museum?"

"Oh, but of course, sir. I never tire of being tutored in the veddy veddy British proprieties."

"And I never tire of having all those layers of strait-laced proprieties stripped away by my wild and crazy colonist." They got in line behind a group of rowdy school kids, and Ben gave Maggie's hand another squeeze. "Perhaps some day, I'll feel free to act like that young chap over there.

Maggie followed Ben's gaze and saw a boy who appeared to be about eight years old. He was grinning and practically vibrating. He was poking the boy beside him and saying, "We're gonna see the pictures. We're gonna see the pictures."

Maggie poked Ben, and leaned to whisper in his ear, "We're gonna see the pictures!"

"And, here I thought the museum would be empty on a weekday," Ben murmured. They reached the front desk, and Ben paid the admission. "Well, my dear, where would you like to start? Nineteenth Century European is this way."

"Why don't we save the best 'til last? Let's see what's going on in the basement first. I am assuming, of course, that the crowd will head towards the impressionists first. Maybe it'll clear out before we get there. Remember when we came with Charlie, Amita and Larry?"

"Of course. I remember Charlie dragging Larry off to see the light and space movement exhibition downstairs. And he was in awe of the Rembrandt etchings, wasn't he?"

Maggie laughed. "He has such a hunger for learning. All three of them do. But Charlie is downright infectious."

"Perhaps we can talk him into visiting for a semester or two at the art institute."

Maggie shook her head. "He's a California boy through and through, so if we're going to drag him to upstate New York, it's going to have to be for a summer session. I can't picture him in a Syracuse snow storm."

"He did attend Princeton, so he has experienced winter."

They strolled through the South Asian gallery, admiring the sculptures from India. "Oh my gosh, look," Maggie said, pointing at a nearly life size black statue. "It's Lakshmi!"

"Right, the Hindu goddess of prosperity, and the wife of Vishnu. Why?"

"That's Amita's grandmother's name, isn't it?"

Ben chuckled. "You're right. And from what Amita says of her, she is a whiz at investments, so she's apparently very aptly named."

They reached the special exhibits gallery, and were disappointed to find it closed. According to the sign, they were preparing an exhibit on the life of Norton Simon. "Ah, well," Maggie said. "let's head back upstairs."

As they had agreed, they saved their favorites until last, finally walking into the nineteenth century wing just as the school group was leaving. Ben laughed, "You are an amazing prognosticator, my dear."

"And don't you forget it."

Hand in hand, they moved from painting to painting. As they paused in front of a Toulouse-Lautrec painting of a red-headed woman in a garden, Maggie gasped. "His colors are absolutely beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are. And it rather looks like a pastel, doesn't it?"

"Is that cardboard?" Maggie leaned forward to get a closer look at the painting.

"It is," Ben said. "Amazing. You know, when I first studied painting, my teacher told us to never ever leave any part of the ground uncovered, and yet Toulouse-Lautrec has used the exposed cardboard to great effect, hasn't he?"

"Mmm hmm," Maggie agreed. A Courbet painting of cliffs had caught her attention. Ben had drifted off in the direction of a painting of a woman in Moorish costume by Bazille. They both avoided the crowds in front of the Van Goghs.

Ben noticed a young woman pushing a boy in a wheelchair. The woman seemed uninterested in the paintings, but the boy was fascinated. He had a sketchbook and was earnestly working on copying Van Gogh's portrait of the artist's mother. Ben couldn't resist a peek. The boy looked up with a defensive expression on his face and started to close the sketchbook.

"Please," Ben said, "don't let me interrupt you. You're doing beautiful work."

"Thank you," the boy said, glancing at the woman. "I like trying to draw the paintings."

Ben smiled. "Then please continue. I'm sorry I interrupted."

"That's okay." The boy turned back to his work.

The woman narrowed her eyes at Ben and said, "They told us it was all right if he..."

Ben realized it would be best if he extracted himself from this situation quickly. "It's more than all right. It's wonderful to see a young man so interested in a great artist like Van Gogh." Without waiting for a reply, he turned to walk away. "Have a good day."

As he stepped into the next room, he heard a loud thump above his head. He looked up just in time to see the skylight shatter, showering the gallery visitors with glass. Alarms started to wail as a parachutist dropped into the room. He heard a second crash down the hall, and suddenly realized he didn't know where Maggie was. "Maggie?!" he called.

"Ben! Over here!" she was pressed up against the wall across from him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. You?"

Security guards swarmed into the room. One grabbed the parachutist, and the others checked the paintings. "Everybody stay put!" One of them yelled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw movement in the gallery behind him. He stepped back into the doorway. The woman with the wheelchair had removed the Van Gogh portrait from the wall and was stuffing it into the back of the chair. "Stop!" Ben turned and stepped toward her.

She raised something that looked like a science fiction stun gun and pointed it at him. Before he could react, she fired. Something struck him in the chest, and he was instantly convulsed by what felt like a million volts. Through the fog of pain, he was vaguely aware of slamming into the floor. Miraculously, the pain ended as suddenly as it had begun, and he lay on the floor gasping.

"Ben!" Maggie dropped to her knees beside him and he blinked up at her.

"Hullo," he murmured. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"There's something stuck in you. With wires."

Someone above him said, "It's a taser." Ben looked toward the voice. It appeared to be a secuirty guard. "Sir, please lie still. The paramedics are coming to have a look at you."

Ben felt around his chest until his shaking fingers touched the wires Maggie had mentioned. They were attached to some sort of probes that had gone through his shirt and were embedded in his skin. "Ouch," he said as he moved one of the probes.

"Sir, please leave those alone," the guard said. "The paramedics will remove them and bandage the wounds for you. They're not going to do any damage where they are."

"Ben, does it hurt anywhere else?" Maggie said, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"I think I hit my head when I fell. But other than that, amazingly, nothing hurts." Suddenly, he sat up. "The Van Gogh. The woman with the little boy in the wheelchair took it. She was the one who shot me with that taser."

The security guard ran past Ben and Maggie and stared at the blank spot on the wall. He swore vehemently and graphically and pulled out his radio. "Secure the exits. Gallery 23 has been hit. The suspect is a woman..." he turned to Ben. "Description?"

"Mid thirties, petite, long blonde hair, pushing a young boy in one of those racing wheelchairs."

The guard relayed the description and returned to Ben's side. "Sir, I'm afraid we're going to have to detain you. The feds are going to want to talk to you about this."

"The feds?" Maggie asked. "Why?"

Ben shifted backwards so he could lean against the wall. "High end art thefts are now under the FBI's jurisdiction." He glanced at the security guard. "I don't suppose we could request a specific Special Agent?"

Charlie Eppes was in the middle of a complex explanation to an upper level class when he felt his cell phone vibrating. He glanced at the display. It was his older brother, Don. Probably some FBI case that required him to wave his magical mathematical wand and save the day. Charlie sighed. "Excuse me a second. I need to take this... Yes?"

"Charlie, am I interrupting?"

"Yes, you are. What can I do for you?"

"There's been a pretty spectacular theft at the Norton Simon. Liz and I are on the way there now. Can you meet us there?"

Charlie sighed. "I'll be there in an hour."

"An hour? Charlie, that's..."

"It's the best I can do. Goodbye." Charlie snapped his phone shut and put it back in his pocket. "I am sorry for that interruption. Has everyone followed my explanation so far? Good.."

Don closed his cell phone and stared at it for a moment.

"The light's green," Liz Warner said gently.

Don stuffed the phone into his pocket and pulled into the intersection. "That was weird."

Liz grinned. "Isn't every conversation with Charlie weird? Or was that weirder than normal?"

It was definitely weirder than normal. He seemed upset about something. Or angry. He said he'll meet us at the museum in an hour."

"An hour?" Liz shrugged. "Well, we'll probably still be there. I don't understand why you want Charlie on this anyway. I mean, I don't see how his math will be helpful in tracking down an art thief."

"You'd be amazed what Charlie can track down with his math," Don said softly. He glanced at Liz. "You don't get him, do you?"

"I don't. I know he's helped you guys a lot. I've seen the kind of stuff he can do. But there must be cases he can't help with."

"There are, but they're few and far between, believe me." Don pulled into the museum parking lot. He showed his badge to the security guard, who waved them through. "Just turn him loose on a problem. He'll tell you if he can't solve it. And if he can, just stand back and watch in amazement. That's what I do."

"Do you understand half of what he does?"

Don laughed. "Not even close. But he does a good job of explaining it if you ask him."

"I don't think he likes me," Liz said softly.

"Charlie likes everybody." Don parked and climbed out. "Let's go see what we've got here."

Liz caught up with Don as he crossed the parking lot. "Haven't you seen the way he scowls when I talk to him?"

"I can't say as I have," Don said. He showed his badge and introduced himself to the guards at the front door.

"Agent Eppes," one of the guards said. "I'm Frank Wilson, head of security here. We've got a lot of witnesses for you to talk to, including one gentleman who was tasered by the suspect."

"Interesting," Don said. "This is Special Agent Liz Warner."

Frank shook hands with Liz. "Nice to meet you."

Don said, "The rest of my team should be here shortly. One of them is a consultant, so he won't have a badge. His name is Charles Eppes."

"Any relation? Or is this my day to meet people named Eppes?"

Don laughed. "He's my brother. Saved me doing a background check."

Frank laughed. "Fair enough." He turned to one of the other guards. "Tommy, cover the front door for me. I'm gonna take the feds here to the scene of the crime." As they walked through the lobby, Frank said. "In all my years in museum security, I've never heard of a heist like this. They actually hired four skydivers to crash through the skylights to create a distraction. We've got all four under arrest, but they all claim they were hired to do this as part of some anti-capitalist demonstration or something."

"Sounds kind of dangerous for a political demonstration," Don said.

"Yeah. I thought so too. You guys should have fun interrogating them and checking their backgrounds."

"Aw, Frank," Liz said with a broad grin, "I figured you would have done that already."

Frank snorted. "We're not set up to handle anything more complicated than people getting too close to the art or shoplifting in the gift shop. This one is all yours. Here we are. The skydivers came through the skylights in the galleries to our immediate left and right, and the two galleries two doors down. The next door on your left is the gallery where the Van Gogh was stolen. The guy who got zapped is in there. We've put everyone else in the auditorium."

Don nodded thoughtfully. "I'll talk to the witness first. Liz, why don't you take a look into the galleries. Don't go in. We'll let the crime scene techs handle that. Then meet me in here." He walked into the crime scene and stopped, stunned. "Ben? Maggie?"

Ben Cole sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, gazing into space. Maggie sat beside him, holding his hand. They jumped and looked up when they heard Don's voice. Ben scrambled to his feet and helped Maggie up. "Don! I was hoping they'd send you."

Don's eyes narrowed. "This is quite a coincidence."

"Ah, yes. I don't know if trouble follows us, or if we follow trouble."

Don chewed on his lip as he nodded. "Either way. Are you okay? I heard you got tasered."

"I'm fine now. I bumped my head when I hit the floor. Fortunately the only lasting effect of the taser is two small puncture wounds in my chest. But that was an experience I hope never to repeat."

"I can imagine. I've seen it demonstrated, but I didn't volunteer to try it."

"Smart move."

Don looked up as Liz entered. "Special Agent Liz Warner, this is Dr. Ben Cole and his wife Maggie. They consulted with us on the Manet case that turned out to lead us to the solution of the Gardner theft. Liz will be investigating the possible drug trade connection."

Liz stepped forward and shook hands with Ben and then with Maggie. "Wow. The Gardner case, huh? That was amazing work."

"Thanks," Maggie said. "We just happened to be around when Don found a stolen Manet." She turned to Don. "You mentioned the drug trade. Do you already have some idea what this was about?"

Don laughed. "We have no idea at all. But Liz tells me more and more high end thefts are related to drugs, so I asked her to work with my team on this case."

"Makes sense to me," Ben said. "Where do you want to start?"

"Well," Don said, "why don't you start with a step by step description of what happened? We'll leave the expert consultation for later. Just be witnesses for now."

Ben sat on the long padded bench in the middle of the room, facing the spot where the Van Gogh had hung. "I'll start with the moment we walked to the Nineteenth Century wing, unless you'd like me to start earlier."

"That's fine."

Ben took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "We came up the spiral staircase from the basement, then came through the lobby to this wing." Ben proceeded with his recollection, occasionally asking Maggie to help clarify a detail, or pausing to answer a question from Don or Liz. When he finished, he said, "Would you like us to sketch the suspects for you, Don?"

Liz said, "I'll have them send an artist..."

Don laughed. "That won't be necessary. Ben and Maggie can do the job just fine themselves. Find Frank and see if he can scare up a sketch pad and pencils for Ben."

"Gee, Eppes," Liz said, "your consultants never cease to amaze me." She left the room just as Charlie entered. "Well, speak of the devil. Hi, Charlie."

"Hi, Liz," Charlie nodded as he passed her, looking for his brother. He grinned as he saw Ben and Maggie, "Wow! Don called you two in on this?"

"Charlie!" Maggie stood and gave him a hug. "The case is as good as solved now."

Charlie rolled his eyes and met Don's gaze. "Hey, Don, I'm sorry I was kind of short with you earlier."

Don chuckled. "Hey, Buddy, I hate to break it to you, but you're always short."

Charlie tried to maintain a scowl, but it dissolved into a mischievous grin. "And you're always old. What's your point?"

"No point. Just making an observation. And I didn't call Ben and Maggie. They were already here."

Charlie's eyes widened as he pulled a notebook out of his his briefcase. "You were here when it happened? I saw one of the galleries where the skydivers came through the skylight. That must have been quite a sight."

"Oh, it was," Ben said. "I had just stepped back in there when the boots hit the glass."

Maggie added, "And then he came back in here just in time to be tasered by the thief."

"Oh, man. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. But if you ever have the opportunity to be tasered, I suggest you pass on it." He paused as he noticed Charlie gazing at the space where the Van Gogh had hung. "Don, I think Charlie's been hit with an inspiration."

"Looks like it," Don said. "What is it, Buddy?"

"Remember that case with the fake Pissarro? The guy who stole it used a taser, too. How often are tasers used in the commission of a crime? There are a lot of elements in this crime that might link to other crimes."

Liz came back into the room. "Frank's going to send someone to get pads and pencils. Charlie, I'm sorry to interrupt. You had an inspiration?"

Charlie scowled briefly and continued. "I was just saying that we need to find the elements in this case that show up in other cases..."

Liz chuckled, "This is the first time I've heard of parachutists crashing through skylights as a distraction during an art theft."

Charlie sighed and closed his notebook. "Listen, maybe I should just bow out of this..."

"No, Charlie!" Liz said putting her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Just ignore my smart mouth."

Charlie pursed his lips and nodded. "Okay. Sorry. It's been a long day. I won't just look for skydivers and skylights. But what about other crimes with unusual distractions? Or other crimes using kids in wheelchairs, or even babies in strollers? We've got to assume that whoever planned this is not only smart, but flashy."

Don nodded, "Too bad Megan's away on assignment. We could use a profiler. But it sounds to me like this guy's got a big ego. He's not only looking to get his hands on an expensive painting. He's looking to make a statement."

"Right," Liz said. "And with an ego that big, he's not likely to stop at one crime."

"You're catching on," Charlie said, smiling. He took out a pen and began scribbling in his notebook. As he wandered off toward the adjoining gallery, he said, "I'll need the witnesses' statements, and the files on big, flashy crimes. You might want to contact Interpol and see what they have. An ego this big probably thinks globally."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A stocky little woman wearing a tie dyed skirt appeared in the doorway. "Excuse me," she said, "Frank asked me to bring some sketching materials up here." She held up a paper bag from the gift shop.

Ben crossed the room, smiling. "Thank you!" He looked in the bag. "This is perfect. Is the receipt in here? I'll see to it that the gift shop is paid for these."

After the woman left, Ben sat back down and began sketching. Liz watched him, fascinated. "Wow, you are good."

He blinked and glanced up at her. "Oh, umm, thanks."

A few minutes later, Frank led Colby Granger and David Sinclair into the room. "Here you go, Agent Eppes. Here's the rest of your team. The crime scene folks will be up here in a minute."

"Thanks, Frank. We'll be ready to start interviewing the other witnesses pretty soon."

"Hey," Colby said, "I see you have the three amigos of consulting on the job."

Maggie looked up and chuckled. "And now we have Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to add a touch of class. Hi, Colby. Hi, David!"

Charlie wandered back in and greeted David and Colby. He glanced at his watch. "Hey, Don, I've got to get back to campus."

"But you just got here," Don said, scowling.

"I've got a meeting and I really can't be late. I'll work on this tonight. Just get me the things I asked for. And you might want to have your techs run Ben's sketch through face recognition and see what shows up."

"Okay," Don said. "Maybe I'll stop by the house tonight if I get done here and bring you the stuff myself."

"That'd be great. I'll see you later," Charlie left the room, stuffing his notebook into his bag as he walked.

Once he left the building, he ran to his car, glancing again at his watch. He prayed the traffic would be light on the way back to campus. He hated leaving his brother in the lurch, but his career at Cal Sci was more important than a part time consulting gig.

He pulled into his spot and breathed a sigh of relief. Someone must have been looking out for him because he had not hit a single red light. He arrived at Millie's office with three minutes to spare. Three students sat in the reception area and met his greeting with scowls. Millie met him at the door and ushered him into her office, closing the door behind him. "Charlie," she said, waving him to take a seat, "thank you for coming today."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Did I have a choice?"

"Not really."

He waved a hand toward the door. "They're the complainants?"

"Yes, they are. Did you recognize them?"

"Of course. Jason LoBella and Daniel Weimar are in my freshman class. Greg Spencer was in the freshman class last year, and is in applied mathematics this semester. So I've been in class often enough to recognize them. Do I pass?"

"Charlie, I'm on your side."

"Are you? You've been pressuring me to cut back on my work for the FBI and spend more time here. You must appreciate the fact that three students are filing a complaint against me."

"Not just you. It's part of a general complaint that our high profile senior faculty are too busy with outside pursuits to spend time with the students who are paying big bucks to study under them."

Charlie sighed. "I have told you repeatedly that I never shortchange my students. May I see the complaints before you bring them in here?"

"Of course," Millie said, handing him a file folder. "They have specific complaints complete with dates and times."

"I can see that," Charlie murmured as he read the forms. He pointed at one line. "This date was a Sunday. I have never had a class on Sunday."

"Okay, so one of them got a date wrong. That does not invalidate the complaints." She waited until Charlie closed the folder and looked up at her. "You ready?" she asked softy.

Charlie nodded. "Yes."

"Now, you understand this is an informal meeting, right? I'm hoping to resolve this without a hearing. And you are aware that you could have a union representative sit in on this session, right?"

"Why does this sound like you're reading me my rights?" Charlie asked with a nervous grin. "I understand all that. Let's get on with it."

He rose as Millie went to the door and called the three students into the room. She had arranged four chairs in front of her desk. "Would you gentlemen have a seat? I want to make it clear that this is an informal meeting. It is my hope that we can resolve this without a formal hearing. Dr. Eppes and I have both read your complaints. If I may summarize, you are claiming the Dr. Eppes and other senior faculty are not giving you the attention you were led to believe you would be receiving when you decided to attend Cal Sci. Have I got it?"

Greg Spencer looked at his companions and spoke up. "Yes, Dr. Finch. That's an excellent summary. We feel that we're victims of a bait and switch. We came here expecting to study with Dr. Eppes, and, well, we've documented how many times he's cut a class short, or strayed from the syllabus because of his outside work."

"Dr. Eppes? Do you have any comment?"

Charlie steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips. "Have you also documented the times I let a class continue beyond its scheduled end time? When I stray from my syllabus to bring you real life applications for the subject we're discussing, do you believe that harms or helps your understanding?" He looked from Greg to Jason to Daniel.

Jason said, "Are you saying you made up all the times you canceled or shortened a class?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'm not the one bringing the charges. Are you prepared to say that I did not make up the time we missed on those occasions I ended class early?"

"No," Greg said angrily. "we don't have that documentation, but I can tell you that there are a group of us who are keeping track of your classes, and we will start documenting the times you let a class run over."

"And," Daniel added, "that stuff about real life applications. That's just bull. I heard about that time you had some thugs in your class and you sent some kids to find campus security. Those guys wouldn't even have been in your class if you hadn't been working for the FBI. You put your students' lives in danger because of your extracurricular activities, Dr. Eppes."

"That's a poor example, Daniel," Charlie said. "Those two thugs targeted me not because of my work with the FBI but because they were trying to take my brother's mind off the case by threatening his family."

"Okay," Greg said, "what about today? You were in the middle of a lecture, and your cell phone rang. And you took the call. That's not the first time this has happened, either."

Millie leaned forward. "Dr. Eppes, you must turn your phone off during class and office hours."

Charlie blushed. "Sorry. I always set it to vibrate. I tend to forget to turn it back on if I turn it off."

"From now on, leave yourself a post it note or something. But we expect the students to have their cell phones off during class, and I think it's only fair that you have to adhere to the same rule. Now, gentlemen, regarding your complaint. I do believe that you have reason to complain," she ignored Charlie's sharp glance and continued, "and I will assess the extracurricular activities of all of our faculty, especially those named in your complaint. I would ask, however, that you delay pursuing this any further until I can make my assessment. Is that fair?"

Jason and Daniel turned to Greg. Jason said, "Sounds good to me. What do you think, Greg?"

Greg nodded slowly. "How about we hold off for a month? If we're not satisfied by your actions then, we'll request a formal hearing."

"I like it," Daniel said.

Greg turned to Millie. "Okay. You've got a month." He stood and the other two stood with him. "Thank you."

"All right," Millie said, standing and walking to the door with the students. "I will keep in touch with you. And I want to hear from you if you have any more data for me, all right?"

After the students had left, she closed the door and slumped down into her chair. "I know it seems like I fed you to the wolves just then."

"It does."

"But we have a month to figure out how we're going to resolve this. Personally, I do not blame the students. This has been going on since long before I was an undergrad. Schools tout their big name professors, and when students arrive, they see the big names once or twice a year, and spend the rest of the time being taught by grad students."

"Millie! I do not do that. I am in my classes..."

"I know. I know. But it's the same principle. They have the perception that you are shortchanging them. We are going to change that perception. Hopefully we can do it without a noticeable change in your own schedule." She grinned. "But you, my friend, are going to have to keep your cell phone turned off while you are in class. Now, was that phone call anything to do with the stolen Van Gogh at the Norton Simon?"

Charlie laughed. "News travels fast."

"It sure does. I have a friend who's a curator there. She couldn't wait to call me with the news. It wasn't supposed to be a secret, was it?"

"No. I guess not." Charlie glanced at his watch. "I'd better get going. Don't want to shortchange my seniors." He stood and picked up his briefcase. "And I'll turn my cell phone off."

After class, Charlie turned his cell phone back on as he walked to his office. It immediately beeped, indicating missed calls and voice mail. He scrolled through the list of missed calls. There were eleven calls from Don. His voice mail contained three messages from Don. Charlie punched in his password and listened to the messages.

"Charlie, it's Don. Ben's sketch turned up a match. I'm having the witness statements and the information on the suspect faxed to you. Call me when you get this."

"Charlie, it's me again. I guess you're still in class or your meeting or something. Give me a call."

"Charlie. Crap. The suspect is missing. Call me right away. When I get a chance I'll head on over, just in case you forgot to turn your phone on. Call me."

Charlie chuckled as he unlocked his office door. The basket under his fax machine had overflowed. He grabbed the papers and headed to his desk, dialing Don as he walked.

"Eppes."

"Don, it's me. I just got out of class and got your voice mails. What's up?"

"Our suspect is Ellen Davis. She's an elementary school teacher, and she's missing"

"Don, wouldn't you take off too if you had a Van Gogh worth millions?"

"Yeah, but the weird thing is she has no record at all."

"Why's she in your system then?"

"Background check for a job. We have her fingerprints, photos, and her whole history. This is kind of a big crime for her first."

"True. Did you find anything on the boy? Were any of her students missing?"

"No. We tracked them all down. When do you think you can get on this?"

Charlie checked his watch. "I have office hours in fifteen minutes. I'll be tied up here for two hours or so. Then I can get to it."

Don sighed. "Okay. If that's the best you can do..."

"Yeah, Don, it is the best I can do. I'll talk to you later."

"Charlie,..."

"I have to go," Charlie closed his phone. He was sorting out the papers from his fax machine when he heard a tapping on his door frame. He looked up and smiled, "Amita! Hi." He crossed the room and hugged her. "Mmm. How are you today?"

Amita pulled back and touched his face gently. "Better than you, if the grapevine is to be believed."

"Believe it. Hey, I only have a couple of minutes before office hours, but do you think you could come by later and help me with something for Don?"

"Sure. Aren't you cutting back on your consulting?"

Charlie shook his head. "No, but I'm going to do it when I don't have any school responsibilities."

"Okay. As long as you don't burn yourself out."

"I won't. I enjoy coming up with ways to help solve crimes. It's challenging, and it's usually a matter of life and death." Movement in the doorway caught Charlie's attention. "Come in, Sandy." He glanced at his watch. "You're right on time."

Amita patted Charlie on the shoulder. "I'll see you later."

Sandy was asking her third question about today's homework when Charlie's mind started to wander. Don had said the suspect was an elementary school teacher. There was a case with an elementary school teacher. Diamonds. It had something to do with diamonds. And gambling. She was a kindergarten teacher who was forced to steal diamonds to save her brother's life. He wondered if this Ellen lady ...

"Dr. Eppes?" Sandy's voice drifted into his consciousness.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"I know this is probably boring for you, but it's confusing to me."

"I'm sorry, Sandy. I promise you I am hanging on your every word now." He looked at what she had written and began to guide her step by step through the solution.

When they finished, Sandy smiled. "This has got to be hard on you."

"No, it isn't. I love teaching."

"Yeah, but your brain must be going a mile a minute while ours are just plodding along. Like before, while I was asking you this basic stuff, I'll bet your mind was off someplace in the mathematical stratosphere. Anyway, thanks for your help."

"You're welcome. And feel free to ask for help any time."

Sandy stood to leave. "I will. And, for the record, I think those guys who filed the complaint against you are idiots."

Charlie stood to see her to the door. "Thanks. You don't know how much I appreciate that."

Four more students stood in the hallway outside of the door. "Why don't you all come in and have a seat? Unless someone has something they want to discuss in private?"

After two and half of his two office hours, Charlie leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had been years since he felt this much pressure when dealing with his students. Now he felt like he had to walk on eggshells around them, afraid of offending any of them. There was a tapping at his door, and he jumped.

"Hey," Amita said gently as she entered the room. "I'm sorry I startled you." She walked around behind him and massaged his shoulders. "Rough day?"

"Mmmhmm. But it just got better."

Millie's voice rang out from the doorway. "And it's going to get even better, Charlie."

Amita stepped back, dropping her hands from Charlie's shoulders. He sat up quickly. "Why?"

Millie grinned. "I've been speaking to your students, Charlie, and not just the teacher's pets. I've talked to people you flunked and people who dropped your class because it was over their heads. And they all agree that you go above and beyond in dealing with your students. I have contacted the students who filed the complaint and told them I have found no justification for taking action against you. You're in the clear, Charlie."

"That's wonderful!" Amita said. "Isn't it, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded, but his brow was still furrowed. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his desk. "How did they take it?"

"I don't know. I sent them emails. Why?"

"They can appeal your decision, can't they? Go above your head?"

"Of course, but when I pass on my data, I don't think it will go any further. Relax, Charlie. You. Are. In. The. Clear. Of course," she added with a wave of your hand, "I will still expect you to remain as conscientious as you've been, and make sure you separate your consulting time from your duties here."

"Of course."

"Good. I will see you at our meeting tonight, then." Millie turned to leave, almost running into Don. "Well, good afternoon, G-Man."

"Good afternoon, Professor. What's Charlie in the clear about?"

"Ooh, I've got to watch what I say around the feds. Sorry, but that's a matter of employer/employee confidentiality. You'll have to badger your brother into telling you." With that, Millie headed off down the hallway.

Don came into the room, looking perplexed. "Tell me what, Charlie?"

"No big deal. Anyway, it's resolved now. I was thinking about your elementary school teacher. Have you found anything more about her?"

"You sure everything's going okay here? Is this why you've been acting so weird today?"

"Yes. This was why I was acting weird, and yes, I'm sure everything is fine now. The teacher?"

"The teacher. Well, Liz is on the way to interview her husband. We've still got nothing on her that would make her likely to commit a crime like this. Why? You got something?"

"Not really. I was just thinking. Remember that kindergarten teacher who tried to rob the jewelry store to bail her little brother out of trouble?"

"Yeah."

"I was just wondering if this was a situation like that. Maybe somebody is making Ellen... what's her name?... commit crimes she wouldn't otherwise commit."

"Ellen Davis. We already thought of that angle. We're checking her relatives, friends, and any casual contacts she might have."

"Good. I haven't had a chance to go through the stuff you faxed me yet, but I'm finally done here for the day, and I've asked Amita to help."

Don studied Charlie's face. "Listen, Buddy, we've got people who can handle this kind of thing. Why don't you take a break on this case?"

Charlie yawned but shook his head. "Let me take a shot at this." He flipped through the pages of witness statements. "Since we have an ID on your suspect, these statements will probably be of limited value. The agents who conducted these interviews; did any of them mention anything notable in any of the interviews?"

"Not really. Colby, David, Liz and I did the interviews. I don't think any of my witnesses saw anything of any value. The others didn't mention anything, but I can ask them when I get back to the office."

"Good. Have you talked to the skydivers yet?"

"Not yet. That's where I'm heading now."

"Okay, good. Fax me whatever you get from them. We can assume – at least for now – that those four skydivers have had actual contact with the masterminds behind this theft. Meanwhile," he glanced at Amita, "we'll probably order Chinese and spend the night here. If you're up to it, Amita?"

"Well, probably not the whole night. But, yeah, Chinese sounds good. Or, how about sushi instead? We had Chinese last night."

Charlie pulled out a well-marked sushi menu. "The usual?"

Amita took the menu and dialed. "Are we becoming creatures of habit, Charlie?"

A smile crept across Charlie's face as he started wiping a blackboard clean. "Yes, we are. And so is our suspect."

Don laughed. "Okay, I can smell the smoke from the wheels turning already. I'll fax you what I get, and you call me when your inspiration strikes, deal?"

"Hmm?" Charlie looked up. "Yeah. Deal. See you later, Bro."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As Don drove back to his office, he thought about Charlie's situation. Obviously there was something going on at Cal Sci. Charlie may have clearance at the national security level, but hiding his emotions from those close to him was not easy for him to do. And Don knew Charlie was tired, stressed, and irritated by something. It was clear that Liz's skepticism rubbed him the wrong way, but there was something more.

But this was a high profile crime, and Don needed all the help he could get. He knew he could count on Charlie, and he only hoped that he wouldn't be pushing Charlie too hard to solve this case. Solving the case would be worthless if his father killed him. Logically, he knew that his father's threats were just bluster, but there was no sense tempting fate. He grinned and shook his head at the image of his father chasing him around the house with his favorite putter.

He was still smiling as he pulled into his parking spot.

By the time he reached the bullpen, his mind was back on business. "Hey, Colby."

Colby looked up from his computer. "Hey, Don. How's the Whiz Kid doing?"

Don hesitated a moment. "He's okay. I think he's having some kind of problem at school, but he's already started on the case. He wants me to send him whatever we get from the skydivers."

Colby nodded. "Two are in interrogation, and two are still in their cells. We were just letting them stew until you got here."

"Good. Do you buy this story about a political protest?"

Colby snorted as he stood. "Not for a minute. But I don't think those four kids planned this thing. Too bad Megan isn't here to read their minds."

"If we put our heads together, we can read minds as well as Reeves ever could. Let's get Liz and David and go talk to a couple of high flying felons."

Liz nodded at the first interrogation room. The prisoner sat with his arm folded staring straight ahead, scowling. The man next to him wore a suit that probably cost more than Don made in a month. Had to be the lawyer. The lawyer was talking, but the prisoner didn't seem to be paying attention."We think this one is the leader of the group. At least he's been the most vocal. The witnesses say the glass was still falling while he was demanding to call his lawyer."

"And I'm guessing that I haven't seen his lawyer's photo on ads at the city bus stops."

David laughed. "You're more likely to have seen his photo on the front page of the LA Times. Above the fold."

"All right. Liz, why don't you and I take the guy with the high priced lawyer. David and Colby, why don't you two talk to our other guest? Do we have names for any of these four guys?"

Colby said, "The guy with the lawyer is Zack Hodgens. The guys in the other room is Avery Schaeffer. The two still in holding are Cameron Mason and Jimmy Doolittle."

"Really?" Don said, "Any relation to the World War II pilot? Or just parents with a bizarre sense of humor?"

"Not a clue," Colby said. "Though the latter could push a kid into a life of crime. You gotta wonder what some parents are thinking when they name their kids."

Don chuckled. "Like naming them after cheese?"

"Hey! Colby is a family name."

"You from a family of cheeseheads, Granger?" Liz smirked.

Colby rolled his eyes. "Like I haven't heard that one a million times, Warner."

"Okay, kids," Don said, "Let's see what the pennies from heaven have to tell us."

Zack Hodgens didn't look up as Don and Liz entered the room. His lawyer stood . "Agents."

Liz grinned at the lawyer. "Well, Mr. Raymond Lewis, Esquire. How nice to see you again."

"Agent Warner. What brings you to Los Angeles?"

"I transferred here a few months ago. What brought your client into the Norton Simon Museum by way of the skylight? Wouldn't it have been cheaper and easier to just pay the eight dollars like normal people?"

"My client was exercising his constitutionally guaranteed right of political protest."

"Last I saw," Don drawled, "the constitution didn't guarantee the right to trespass and damage private property. Not to mention aiding and abetting the theft of a priceless piece of art."

"Do you have proof that the theft wasn't just a crime of opportunity totally unrelated to my client's political protest?"

Don ignored Lewis's question and leaned both hands on the table in front of Zack. "So, what were you and your buddies protesting?"

At Lewis' barely perceptible nod, Zack said, "The economic racism of our European-centric culture."

Don raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "That's a new one on me. You got some organization you're part of?"

"Actually, we were hired by a very nice lady." Zack finally met Don's gaze, and batted his eyes innocently. "Her protesters were outside the museum when we did our thing."

Don shook his head. "No protesters. You think your lady friend stood you up?"

Zack shrugged. "Must be. Maybe she couldn't get her permit or something. She sure wasted a hell of a lot of money hiring us."

"Why don't you give us her name and we'll see why she missed a hot date with you and your buddies?"

"I don't know her name."

"Agent Warner, do you believe Zack here doesn't know the name of the person who hired him for such a risky stunt?"

"Not for a minute, Agent Eppes."

"Hey, she paid cash."

"You said she wasted a hell of a lot of money, Zack. What's the price tag for four double digit prison terms? Not to mention the risk? You and you employees could have been seriously injured."

"Partners. Not employees. And we agreed with her cause. Sometimes principle is more important..."

Don laughed so loudly Zack jumped. "Principle had nothing to do with it, Zack. I'm willing to bet that the only thing you and this imaginary woman agreed on was ..."

"Special Agent Eppes," Lewis warned, "I suggest that you try to find the woman who hired my client."

Don kept gazing at Zack as he answered Lewis, "It's awfully hard to find someone who doesn't exist."

"Oh, she exists, all right. She's about five foot seven, long gray hair. She wears tie dyed baggy dresses and floppy hats."

"Congratulations. You've described half the college professors in California."

Zack grinned. "Not the half that includes your brother."

Don forced himself to grin and hoped Zack hadn't noticed the moment of hesitation. "No, not the half that includes my brother. I just can't picture him in a baggy dress and floppy hat. Hey, Agent Warner, do you think Zack here is going to try to convince me that my brother hired him?"

Liz snorted. "He looks dumb but nobody could be that dumb. Your brother doesn't have long gray hair."

"So, Zack, are we done playing games? If you're going to insist that this woman really hired you, give me a description I can do something with. How much did she pay you to take the fall for her?"

"Take the fall?" Zack said. "Funny. She paid us a million."

"Each?" Don said. "Otherwise you got ripped off."

Zack folded his arms across his chest. "We didn't get ripped off."

"Let's see," Don said, "I'm no college professor, but even I can divide a million dollars by four. You guys got two hundred fifty thousand each. Let's use round numbers here. Say you go to jail for ten years. You've made twenty five thousand for each of those ten years. I haven't seen your business records, but I'll bet you clear more than twenty five thousand dollars a year."

Zack glanced at his lawyer then turned back to Don. "Listen, the description I gave you is accurate, okay? She looked exactly like you'd expect a protester to look. So I didn't really look any further. You know what I mean?"

"You saw what you expected to see and nothing more," Liz said softly.

"Right," Zack said. "But I've still got the cash she gave me. Maybe she left fingerprints on it or something."

Don stood and grinned at Liz. "Looks like I taught Zack some higher mathematics today."

"Your brother is going to be jealous, Don." Liz turned to the lawyer. "Since your client volunteered the money, I don't see the reason for a warrant. Do you?"

"Not at all, Agent. I am certain this evidence will clear my client of any charges other than trespassing."

After Liz and Don had left the room, she turned to him and said, "That man always was a dreamer. I'm thinking at least breaking and entering."

Charlie stood at the blackboard, chalk in his right hand, and chopsticks in his left. His eyes never left the board as he picked up a piece of California roll, dipped it in the mixture of soy sauce and wasabi and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he picked up an eraser and wiped out the last thing he had written. "That's not going to work," he muttered around a mouthful of rice.

"Why not?" Amita said, moving closer to look over his shoulder.

"It doesn't incorporate all of the variables..."

"Hullo!" Ben said from the doorway.

"Ben! Maggie!" Charlie waved them in.

Amita turned. "Ben, are you all right? Charlie told me about what happened."

"I'm fine, thanks. Just a bit sore."

"Sore? I thought the taser wasn't supposed to have any lasting effects."

Ben chuckled. "It didn't. But slamming backwards onto the floor did have a lasting effect. I do believe I am one giant bruise from top to – uh – bottom, so to speak."

Maggie was gazing at the blackboard. "Can I assume all this has something to do with the case?"

Ben raised his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're beginning to understand Charlie's language?"

"Not at all," Maggie laughed. "But the headings: 'skydivers,' 'woman w/taser,' and 'boy in chair' do seem to make a connection."

"I'm trying to come up with an algorithm, but I don't have enough data yet. Did Don send anything with you?"

Ben grinned and held up a manila envelope. "Just this."

"This may be what I've been waiting for," Charlie said. "Yes, it's the interviews of the skydivers." He put the chalk down and sat in his chair, beginning to pull papers from the envelope.

Amita pulled two chairs over. "Would you care to join us? We're having sushi for dinner. There's more than enough. Charlie always orders too much."

"No, I don't. Maybe I intentionally ordered enough for Ben and Maggie," Charlie said without looking up from the papers. "Oh, man, the guy Don thinks is the leader knows who I am."

"Really?" Amita said, looking over his shoulder. "That doesn't sound good."

Maggie said, "It might not be bad. You are pretty well known, Charlie."

He shrugged and continued to read. A large grin spread across his face. "Don dazzled him with math."

Amita nudged him. "You are rubbing off on him. Next thing you know, he'll be teaching your classes and you'll be wearing kevlar and carrying a gun."

"I don't think that's going to happen," Charlie said, going back to his reading. "This guy is good. He has a lawyer, and he didn't really tell Don anything. He did offer to surrender the money to help track down this woman they claimed hired them."

"Woman?" Ben said, "The one who stole the painting?"

"I don't think so," Charlie said, "this skydiver, Zack Hodgens, claims they were hired by a middle aged woman with long gray hair, about five foot seven."

Ben shook his head. "The woman who stole the painting was shorter. Five two or five three at the most. Did Don show this Zack person the sketch I drew?"

Charlie flipped through the report. "I don't see it in the transcript. I'll mention it to Don next time I talk to him."

"Charlie," Amita said, "remember when you used risk assessment to help Don with the suspects in that stolen radioactive material case a couple of years ago? Could you use something like that on these four guys? See if you can get one of them to realize he stands to to lose more than the others?"

Charlie shook his head as he continued to go through the report. "I don't know. They are around the same age, same socio-economic level, similar family situations. I don't think I'll be able to find enough differences to make one of them give the others up." He tapped on the envelope as he pondered. "But we did also discuss the prisoner's dilemma in that case. Now that might work better, if we can get Don and his team to play along with it."

Ben picked up a piece of nigiri and dipped it in soy sauce. Before he popped it into his mouth, he said, "What is the prisoner's dilemma?"

Charlie stood and wiped one of his chalkboards clean. He then drew a chart with three columns and three rows. "To simplify matters, I'll just assume there are two prisoners involved. Though four does make it a lot more interesting. Anyway," he said, "we presuppose that each of the two prisoners is interested in only one thing: minimizing his prison term. We also presuppose that the prisoners do not trust each other completely. Keeping the prisoners separate, Don will offer them each this deal: if prisoner A testifies against prisoner B, and prisoner B stays silent, then prisoner A goes free and prisoner B gets ten years in prison." He filled in boxes as he spoke. "If they both stay silent, they each get six months in prison. If they both talk, they each get a two year sentence."

Maggie studied the chart, "But the prisoners have a better sentence if they both stay quiet. Shouldn't they get six months each if they both talk and two years each if they're both quiet?"

"That does seem to make the most sense. But if prisoner A stays quiet and prisoner B decides to talk, then prisoner A will get ten years. Unless prisoner A really trusts prisoner B, he's best off by talking. If he talks, he gets either six months or nothing. If he stays silent, he gets either six months or ten years."

"So," Ben said, "does Don have the discretion to make the kind of offers you suggest?"

Charlie smiled and shrugged. "That's his problem. I'll fill him in on the principle and let him decide how to implement it." Charlie sat back down and took a sip of his coffee. He smiled and shook his head. "It's amazing to watch him interrogate suspects. He's quick and smart. He'll probably have all four of them singing like operatic tenors."

Amita chuckled as she nodded at Charlie's chart. "Or, if this doesn't work, he'll have them singing like castrati."

Charlie and Ben grimaced as Maggie and Amita laughed. Finally, Charlie said, "Hopefully, it won't come to that." He went back to reading the interviews. "The four of them started their skydiving business about a year ago, and it doesn't look like the business is doing very well."

"If the partners are disagreeing about money," Amita said, "that might give Don something he can exploit."

"I'm sure he's thought of it, but I'll mention it to him. Now this is interesting..." He was interrupted by a knock on his office door.

"Dr. Eppes?" Greg Spencer stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you have a few minutes?"

Charlie stood and motioned for Greg to come in. "Of course, Greg. What can I do for you?"

Greg entered the room, looking hesitantly at the other professors. "I... uh..."

"It's okay. We're just grabbing a quick supper and doing some brainstorming. On our own time, of course."

Greg reddened. "I realize that. I just had a question about one of the questions you assigned for tomorrow."

With Charlie's encouragement, Greg explained the question, and Charlie led him through a few steps until Greg saw the solution. "Thanks, Professor Eppes." He turned to the others. "I'm sorry to interrupt. Goodnight."

When Greg had left, Amita said, "He's one of the students who filed the complaint against you, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is. He's a good kid, though. I don't expect any more problems from them. Millie seems to have handled it very well."

Amita didn't look convinced "That problem he asked you about. That was pretty basic. Isn't he in one of your more advanced classes?"

"Yes, he is. What's your point?"

"I wonder if he had some other reason for coming here in the middle of the night, and just made that up when he saw we were here."

Charlie chuckled and shook his head. "You've been hanging around the FBI too much. You're getting suspicious."

Amita shrugged. "Just observant. It's probably nothing."

Well," he said, looking at the chalkboard, "Don wanted me to call him if inspiration strikes. I think this qualifies. It may not be a magic wand, but it'll give him something to start with." He glanced at Ben, "I'll ask him about whether he showed the sketch to the skydivers."

"Wait," Maggie said. "Just before Greg came in, you were looking at the file, and you said, 'This is interesting.' What was interesting?"

"One of the partners, Avery Schaeffer, said he warned Zack that the stunt was stupid. It sounds like there's already a chink in the armor. And Zack was the only one who had a lawyer. If they're partners, why didn't they either use the same lawyer or each have their own?" Charlie took out his cell phone and dialed.

"Hey, Charlie, what's up?" Don had obviously checked the display before answering his cell phone.

"Not much, Don. I haven't been able to come up with a magic wand yet, but we did come up with some ideas. Ben wanted to know if you'd shown his sketch to the skydivers."

"No. I'll wait until I can get one of them to cooperate. You have anything I can use to get them to open up to me? I remember how well you did getting that Watson kid of turn against Darryl Gerth. You got anything like that up your sleeve?"

"Well, they have too many similarities for me to do the risk assessment, but I thought you could use the prisoner's dilemma. Convince at least one of them that he stands to lose more by being quiet than he stands to lose by telling you everything he knows."

"Hey, I'll give it a try. You got the interview transcripts, right?"

"Yes, Ben brought them."

"All right. I'll try the prisoner's dilemma thing on our four skydivers. Will you have a chance to try coming up with something else in case that doesn't work?"

"I will. I have to teach a class at ten in the morning, but I'm all yours 'til then."

"Don't you need your beauty sleep?"

"Beauty sleep?" Charlie laughed. "It's too late for that, Bro. Should I call you when I have an answer for you? I don't want to wake you up."

The others in the room could hear Don's laugh through Charlie's phone. "Call me as soon as you have anything."

Amita checked her watch and when Charlie finished his call, she said, "Charlie, I'm going to have to call it a night."

Ben said, "Maggie and I will walk you to your car."

Charlie pressed his hand over his heart in mock horror. "You're all deserting me?"

"Yep," Amita kissed him on the cheek. "For some of us, beauty sleep is not a lost cause."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 7

Liz, Colby and David were waiting anxiously as Don hung up. "Has he got anything yet?" Liz asked.

"Not really. He did suggest we try to convince at least one of them that he would be better off turning in the others. Have we come up with anything that we could use as a wedge?"

David scowled and nodded. "I do remember something." He picked up the interview transcripts and flipped through the pages. "Here. Avery Schaeffer is the one who said the stunt was stupid. Why don't we start with him?"

Don nodded. "Sounds good. David, come in with me. Bring the transcripts with you. Liz and Colby, I want you two observing."

Avery Schaeffer had slouched back in the chair, and appeared to be dozing. But he opened his eyes and stared as the agents entered the room. "Finally," he muttered. "I was beginning to think you guys forgot about me."

Don placed his palms on the table and leaned forward to gaze at Schaeffer. "No such luck. Too bad your buddy Zack didn't get you a lawyer too."

"Zack's got a lawyer?"

"Yep. A lawyer wearing a suit that costs more than I make in a month. I guess he's expecting you to get a legal aid lawyer, huh?"

David pulled one of the transcripts from the stack. "Didn't you say you guys were partners?"

"We are."

"I wonder if he's paying his hotshot lawyer out of the business funds."

Schaeffer snorted. "No way. The so-called business is broke. Unfortunately, the rest of us are not independently wealthy like Zack is. That's why we let him talk us into this idiotic scheme."

"And now it looks like he's going to let you three take the blame. I mean, there's no limit to what a good lawyer can do, and Zack's got one of the best."

David sat on the edge of the table. "Avery, what was the real reason for this stunt?"

Avery met David's gaze and smiled a lopsided smile. "We were exercising our Constitutionally guaranteed right of protest. We were protesting the economic racism of our European-centric culture."

David shook his head. "Man, how long did you guys rehearse that line?"

"Rehearse? We didn't need to rehearse. I'm telling you the truth."

Don said, "Let's forget that for now. You are aware that there are very serious charges pending against you, right?"

"Yeah. I've been read my rights and told what I'm being charged with. Why?"

"Well, your buddy Zack has got his lawyer watching out for his interests, and I can guarantee you that his lawyer will be urging him to blame this whole thing on the rest of you."

Avery leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "You expect me to believe that? We've been buddies since we were kids. Zack isn't going to throw us under the bus."

"Then why didn't mister moneybags pony up for lawyers for the rest of you? Wake up and smell the coffee, Schaeffer. You guys are going to be cooling your heels in a federal pen while Zack is making millions writing his memoirs."

Avery sighed and rubbed his face. Don and David stood quietly. Finally, tired of the silence in the room, Avery leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Okay. What are you offering?"

Charlie finished the rest of the sushi, washing it down with cold coffee. He shuddered and tossed the cup into the trash. "That's nasty," he muttered. He rubbed his eyes and scowled at the blackboard. "Crap," he said, picking up an eraser and angrily wiping out what he'd just written. He glanced at his watch. It was after four in the morning. He dialed Don's cell number. It went to voicemail. "Don, I'm going home to catch a couple of hours of sleep. The numbers aren't making sense any more tonight. I'll call you first thing in the morning." He chuckled. "Unless you call this first thing in the morning. Goodnight."

He updated the files in his laptop, packed up, locked his office door and headed for his car. He was surprised to see that there was one other car in the lot. He glanced back at the building, and chuckled. There was at least one other professor burning the midnight oil. More power to him, he thought ruefully.

"Professor!" A soft voice startled him, and he turned.

"Greg? What are you doing here at this hour? Still having trouble with that problem?"

Greg shook his head as he approached. "Nope. My only problem is you."

"Me?" Charlie involuntarily took a step back, reaching for his cell phone.

"I really need you to stop your consulting."

A hand clamped down on Charlie's wrist, and a voice behind him said, "You don't need to call anybody, Professor. Greg just wants to have a polite conversation with you."

Charlie took a deep breath. "Greg," he said, hoping his voice was steady, "you don't need to do this. I am increasing the time I spend with my students, and doing consulting work on my own time."

A look of pain mixed with fear crossed Greg's face. "You don't understand, Professor. I really need you to stop consulting."

"It's not going to happen," Charlie said softly.

Greg stepped forward, raising his left hand pleadingly. "I hate to do this."

Charlie didn't even see the punch coming until it smashed into his cheek. He stumbled and would have fallen except that strong hands behind him held him upright. The second punch doubled him over, driving the breath from his lungs. Another blow to the face and he felt himself dropping to the ground. He heard a car starting, but by the time his vision cleared, Greg and his accomplice were gone.

"Hey! What's going on here?"

Charlie pushed himself to his knees and focused on a security guard running toward him. Just a couple of minutes late, he thought. The guard crouched beside him. "Professor Eppes? What happened?"

"A couple of students... Greg Spencer. There was at least one other... but I didn't see him."

"You okay? You're bleeding." The guard took Charlie's chin and turned his face toward the light.

"I'm okay. Just a few bruises." Charlie put his hand on the guard's shoulder and slowly got to his feet. "I'm going to go home, if that's okay."

"I'll need to file a report."

"Do you need me here to do that?"

"Probably not. You should get checked out. Make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine. You want me to sign a release or something? I won't sue. I promise."

The guard grinned. "Okay. I guess I believe you. Let me walk you to your car, though."

"Thanks," Charlie said, bending to pick up his computer bag. He wiped his nose and grimaced. "I hope it's not broken."

The guard bit back a comment, but Charlie caught his expression. "You can say it."

"What? I wasn't going to say anything."

"Sure," Charlie said, pressing the button to unlock his car. He pulled out his wallet, and handed the guard a business card. "All my numbers are on there if you need to get in touch with me. And, thanks again."

"You're welcome. You sure you're okay?'

It took Charlie a few more minutes to convince the guard he was fine, but he was finally able to drive home. Thankfully, the porch light was the only light on when he pulled into the driveway. He entered the house as quietly as possible and walked stiffly up the stairs.

He dropped his bag off in his room and went to the bathroom. He winced as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. His left cheek was turning purple and there was a trail of dried blood from his nose, over his chin, and down onto his shirt. No wonder the guard hadn't wanted him to walk to his car alone. He didn't want to risk waking his father by running the shower, so he cleaned up the best he could with a washcloth. His shirt, along with the washcloth and towel, he dropped into the hamper.

He pressed his ear to the bathroom door. No creaking of footsteps. The coast was clear. He was in bed with the light off when he heard his father in the hallway. "Charlie?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm sorry I woke you..." He pulled the blankets up so they'd cast a shadow over his face.

"Is everything okay?" Alan asked, opening the door.

"Fine. I got caught up working on a case for Don. I just need a couple hours of sleep before I get back to it."

"Yeah? Well, I'm glad to hear the slavedriver is giving you time to sleep. Is your alarm set, or do you want me to wake you up?"

"My alarm's set. Thanks, Dad. Goodnight."

"Good morning," Alan said, chuckling as he pulled the door shut.

Don was smiling as he left the interrogation room. David and Liz had gone to their desks to start following up on the information Schaeffer had given them. He pulled out his cell phone. He had felt it vibrate but had decided not to answer while things were going so well. He flipped the phone open and grinned at Colby. "Charlie left a voice mail. Maybe he's got something too."

He listened to the message and laughed as he closed the phone. "What a wimp. He was too tired to do any more. He just wanted to let me know he was going home to sleep for a couple of hours. He said the numbers weren't making any sense."

Colby raised his eyebrows. "If the numbers don't make sense for the Whiz Kid, the rest of us have no hope."

"Don!" David jogged toward them. "They just found Ellen Davis' body."

"The school teacher?"

"Yeah."

"Murder?"

"Definitely. Shot once in the back of the head. They found her next to her car behind a fast food place about half a mile from the museum. No sign of the painting or the wheelchair."

"Liz!" Don said, approaching her desk. She looked up. "What did you get from Ellen Davis' husband?"

"Not much. He said there was no way she was involved in something like this. But he hadn't seen her since she left for school in the morning. Unfortunately, when I pressed for more, he decided he really should talk to his lawyer before saying anything else."

"Okay. Well, now that she's turned up dead, let's bring him in and question him."

Liz glanced at her watch. "At this hour?"

"Why not? He should be notified of her death, right? We don't want him to hear about it on the news."

Liz sighed. "If he's just a grieving widower, this is really going to suck."

Don nodded. "Yeah. It is. But if he's a murderer, we have got to get him in here ASAP. If you don't want to handle it, I can send Colby and David."

"I'll handle it."

"David, you go with Liz. I'm going to try to call Charlie and let him know about this new development."

Liz smirked. "You're going to interrupt his nap?"

Don dialed. "Yeah. He tells me beauty sleep is a lost cause with him anyway." He listened as the call went straight to voice mail. "Tricky. He's turned off his phone. I guess he knew I'd be calling him." He glanced at his watch. It was almost five. "Listen, I'm going to stop by the house, wake up our favorite mathematician and get him back to work. I'll be back here by the time you return with Mr. Davis."

"You might want to take a shower and change your clothes while you're there."

"Liz! Are you saying I stink?"

"Never. Let's just say we'd all be a lot happier if you'd take my advice."

The fatigue hit Don somewhere on the way to Charlie's house. He briefly toyed with the idea of calling Liz and having her wait on arresting Davis, but knew that was a dumb idea. He pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, stretching his aching back.

The front door was unlocked, and Don could smell coffee. "Don?" Alan's voice came from the kitchen.

"Dad? What are you doing up so early?"

"I could ask you what you're doing up so late."

"I tried calling Charlie but he turned his phone off. Where is he?"

"I haven't seen or heard from him. I assume he's in bed. Where you should be."

"That's not gonna happen any time soon. We've got a high profile art theft case that just turned into murder. I'm hoping he's had enough sleep to be useful."

"Useful, huh? Does he know you think of him that way?"

Don sighed and rubbed his face. "Dad, Charlie knows I appreciate everything he does for us." I'm going to take a quick shower, then I'll try to wake up sleeping beauty."

When Don finished showering, he opened the hamper. But before he tossed his towel in, he noticed the bloody shirt. It was the same shirt Charlie had been wearing. He dressed quickly and hurried to Charlie's room. Charlie was sound asleep, snoring noisily. Don pulled the blanket down and grabbed Charlie's shoulder, "Charlie!"

He wasn't prepared for Charlie's reaction. His brother yelped, "No!" and pulled away.

"Charlie. Hey, Charlie. I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Don sat on the edge of Charlie's bed.

Charlie grimaced as he rubbed his eyes. A nasty purple bruise covered his left cheek, and his nose was swollen and bruised. He glared at Don. "Why'd you grab me like that?"

"Sorry. I saw your shirt in the hamper. I was worried. What happened?"

Charlie lay back down. "One of my students had an issue with how I spend my time."

"What?"

"He jumped me when I was leaving my office this morning. Listen, Don, this has nothing to do with the case, okay? A group of students filed a complaint, saying I was not spending enough time on my Cal Sci commitments. Millie investigated, and decided there was no basis for their complaint, so she dismissed it. One of the students decided to take matters into his own hands and tried to convince me to stop consulting for outside agencies."

"When did this happen? I mean the complaint?"

"Today."

Don nodded. "That explains a lot. Listen, Buddy, I'm sorry if I've pressured you..."

"Don. How I spend my time is my own choice."

"Dad seems awfully calm," Don said, chuckling.

"He doesn't know yet." Charlie smiled. "And now I've got you here to protect me from him."

"What do you think Dad's going to do to you?"

"Smother me with kindness?" He touched his cheek gingerly. "It's not as bad as it looks, but he's never going to believe that."

"I'm not sure I believe it." Don stood. "I'm going back to work. You get some sleep, Buddy."

Charlie sat up. "I'm awake now. I'll bet you came here with more data for me."

Don sighed. "Yeah, I did. But it can wait."

"Don. I'm just going to sit up wondering what it is you have for me. You might as well give it to me now."

"They found Ellen Davis' body. Liz and David are on the way to pick up her husband."

"He killed her?"

"We have no idea who killed her. But Liz wasn't able to get much out of him earlier, so this is a good reason to bring him in and put a little pressure on him."

"Obviously this changes everything. How was she killed? Where'd they find her body?'

Don filled Charlie in on the details as Charlie pulled out clothes to wear.

"Okay, Bro. Do I have time to take a quick shower?"

Don checked his watch. "Sure. I'll go down and have a cup of coffee with Dad. You want me to break the news to him so he doesn't flip out when he sees your face?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out," Charlie said as he headed to the bathroom.

"Don!" You ready for a cup of coffee?"

"Thanks, Dad. I need the caffeine."

"You need sleep," Alan said, handing Don a steaming cup. "But take this for now. Sounds like you woke up sleeping beauty."

"Yeah. Dad, there's something I've got to tell you before he comes downstairs. Charlie was attacked by one of his students on his way home last night. This morning. Whatever. His face is bruised, but he seems to be okay other than that."

"Oh my God, Don. Why didn't he tell me?"

"I think he was probably just too tired to deal with it."

Alan narrowed his eyes at his elder son. "What do you mean, 'deal with it?'"

Don took a sip of coffee. "I refuse to answer on the grounds it may tend to incriminate me."

"I do hope you are not implying that there is somehow something wrong with a man being concerned about the wellbeing of his sons."

"Not at all, Dad. Listen, Charlie called me and left a voice mail as he was leaving his office. He said he was so tired the numbers weren't making any sense. Then he was attacked after that. I think the only thing he wanted to deal with was his bed."

Alan chuckled. "Okay. You're off the hook. As long as you're waiting for Charlie, you want a bagel and a schmear?"

"Sounds great, Dad. Let me help." Don picked up his coffee and followed his father into the kitchen. Alan sliced and toasted the bagels and Don retrieved the cream cheese and a knife. "No lox?" he asked, looking in the refrigerator.

"The landlord hasn't done the shopping yet this week. You're lucky we have bagels."

By the time Charlie came downstairs, Don and Alan were seated, drinking coffee and eating bagels.

"Hey, Dad, Don," Charlie said. "That looks good."

"Help yourself," Alan said, "and before you ask, we're out of lox."

Charlie sat, and took the cup of coffee Alan held out for him. "Thanks."

Alan studied Charlie's face. "That looks painful," he said quietly. At Charlie's look of surprise, he added, "I'm trying not to overreact. Don tells me it's not as bad as it looks. And I must say, I hope he's right, because if it is as bad as it looks, I should be calling 911."

Charlie grinned. "Now that's more like what I was expecting. Seriously, though, it really isn't as bad as it looks."

"Have they caught the guy who did this to you?"

Charlie shrugged. "Not that I know of. But I gave campus security his name, so I don't think I'm in any danger."

Alan shook his head. "I assume you had no idea you were in any danger before this happened."

"Of course not."

"So I don't think I'll take any comfort in the fact that you don't believe you're in danger now." He shrugged. "Somebody has to worry about you two."

Don grinned and lifted his coffee cup in a toast. "And you're just the man to do it."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

After they finished breakfast, and Charlie had reassured his father for the fourth and fifth times that he was fine, Don and Charlie walked to their cars.

"Why don't you ride with me?" Don asked.

"I need to stop at my office first." Charlie pressed the button on his key fob to unlock his car. He noticed Don's hesitation. "I'll be fine. Besides," he added, grinning, "there is no way I am going to wait around for you to give me a ride home."

Don rolled his eyes. "Okay. Just be careful, okay? Keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Don't walk by yourself..."

"And don't make eye contact with strangers." Charlie chuckled. "If it makes you feel better, I'll call you while I'm walking to and from my office. This was a fluke. A one-time thing. Dad has accepted the fact that I will be fine."

"Yeah, because he believes I'm going to be with you. He's watching through the curtains right now, and if you take one more step toward your car, he's going to come flying through that front door."

Charlie looked toward the window, scowling. "He's not there. I'm getting into my car, driving to campus and going into my office. If you want to follow me, you're welcome to." He grabbed the door handle and glanced at the house. "Come on. Move that behemoth so I can get out of here," he called as he got into the car.

Don got into his SUV, and grinned as he saw the curtains move. He waved at Alan as he backed out of the driveway. "Chuck," he murmured, "you are going to be dead meat when you get home."

"Sorry I'm late," Don said as he entered the bullpen.

Liz looked past Don and then smiled at him. "What? You couldn't wake up your brother?"

"He's on his way. Is Davis here?"

"Yeah. David's talking to him now."

"Thanks," Don started toward the interrogation room, then stopped. "Hey, Liz, listen. Charlie should be here in a few minutes. He looks like he walked into a wall. Or a fist. One of his students attacked him when he left his office last night."

"Is he okay?"

"He says he's fine. In fact, he insisted on stopping by his office on the way over here."

"Getting back on the horse, so to speak."

"Yeah. Let's hope he doesn't fall off again. I'm gonna go meet Mr. Davis."

"Don, I don't know if you'll get anything worthwhile from him. David's trying to calm him down. We had to tell him his wife was dead. We brought him by the morgue so he could identify her. He's pretty much a basket case right now."

Don nodded. "That's understandable." He opened the door and entered the interrogation room. David sat beside a small, round man. "Mr. Davis?"

The man looked up. His face was red and tear-stained. He stood and extended his hand. "I'm Ed Davis."

"I'm Special Agent Eppes. I'm lead on this case."

"Which case?" Ed asked. "The theft or my wife's murder?"

"We believe they're the same case, Mr. Davis."

"Call me Ed. I already told your agents that there's no way Ellen was involved in stealing that painting." Before Don could object, Ed held up his hand. "I know she was seen removing the painting. I know she tasered some guy. But Ellen was a sweet, loving person. She taught little kids. She never even broke the speed limit, for God's sake." Ed glanced down at his hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mr. Davis. We are sorry for your loss..."

"Is that what they teach you to say when you're interrogating grieving loved ones? 'I'm sorry for your loss?' That sounds as full of thought and emotion as, 'Have a nice day.'"

Don sat and put his hand gently on Ed's shoulder. "Listen, I really am sorry. I can't pretend to know what you're going through right now. I have lost people in my life. A close friend – a woman I used to date – was murdered a little over a year ago. It's not quite the same as your situation, but..."

Ed sighed. "Okay. I'm sorry I unloaded on you. I ... I can't imagine what it must be like, dealing with this crap every day. What can I do to help you catch whoever did this to her?"

"Thank you. Would you like some coffee? It's not great, but it's drinkable, especially early in the day."

"No, thanks."

"When did you last see your wife?" Don asked gently.

"Yesterday morning, when she left for work. I'm an insurance agent, and have an office in our home."

"Looking back, was there anything unusual yesterday morning?"

Ed shook his head. "I've been thinking about it since your agents told me about the painting. I can't think of anything out of the ordinary." He blinked back tears. "I'm glad we didn't argue, you know? The last time I saw her, we had breakfast together. We laughed. We made plans to go out to dinner. I ... I kissed her goodbye. I always hear about people who wish their last moment with a loved one was ... was like the moment I had with Ellen."

"Recently, say in the last month or so, have you noticed any change in her routine?"

Ed sharted to shake his head, then stopped. "She got stuck helping out with some after school group on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so she stayed late those days. It was a little odd because it started in the middle of the semester."

"What kind of group?"

"She said it was a career planning group. Kind of like Junior Achievement. I guess the adviser had trouble keeping the kids under control. She said he's a little flaky; very enthusiastic about his subject matter, but not good at maintaining discipline."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Fred something. Agincourt maybe? The school will know. I assume you've contacted the school."

"Not yet, but we will. We'll get the information about this club from them."

"You really think this is important?"

Don shrugged. "At this point in a case, any little thing could turn out to be important."

"So you're just grasping at straws now?"

David glanced at Don and said, "I know it seems that way, Mr. Davis. We've got teams retrieving and examining the physical evidence too."

Ed rubbed his face again and gave Don a pleading look. "I'm sorry I'm not being much help. But my mind is just a mess right now. Could we continue this another time? I've got to call our family and let them know what happened. I need to make funeral arrangements... God, I've never done this before. I don't even know where to start."

"Do you attend a church or synagogue?" Don asked.

Ed nodded. "Yeah, we're members of a Baptist church around the corner from our house."

"Why don't you start by calling your pastor?" David said softly. "He'll know what to do."

"I'll do that. Do you mind if I leave now?"

Don handed Davis a business card. "I know it's another cliché, but call me if you think of anything, okay? Do you need a ride home?"

"No. I'll take a cab."

"Get a receipt, okay?" Don said, "I'll see that you get reimbursed." He stood as Ed stood. "You can call for a cab from my desk, and then I'll walk you down to the lobby."

"Thank you, Agent Eppes."

Don escorted Ed Davis back to the lobby. As they were parting, Charlie came in, carrying his laptop case. "Hey, Don. Oh, sorry," he said noticing Ed. "I'm interrupting."

"Not at all. We're just finishing up. Ed Davis, this is my brother, Professor Charlie Eppes. Charlie, Ed is Ellen Davis' husband."

Charlie's face clouded in sympathy. "Mr. Davis, I was so sorry to hear about your wife."

Ed shook Charlie's hand and blinked back tears. "Thank you." He turned to Don. "Let me know if you find out anything. Please?"

"I will. Thank you for coming in."

Don and Charlie watched Ed leave the building, then Don rubbed his face. "That was awkward. Liz and David were the ones who broke the news to him about his wife – when they stopped to pick him up for questioning."

"But if they picked him up, how's he getting home?"

"Can't get anything past you, Chuck. I offered him a ride, but he said he'd rather take a cab. We're going to reimburse him."

As they walked toward the elevator, Charlie said, "Well, did you get anything worthwhile from him?"

"Not really. He's pretty shaken up. I'll give him some time and we'll question him again if we need him. So, did you have any brilliant ideas since I saw you last?"

Charlie grinned, "Well, I did have some inspiration for my cognitive emergence work, but I'm really going to need more data on this case before I can contribute anything."

"I'm beginning to wonder if Ellen Davis was forced to do this."

"Like that woman who tried to steal the diamonds a couple of years ago?"

"Yeah. Her husband said she's been staying after school Tuesdays and Thursdays. We're going to check on that. But I wonder if you could try to figure out how on earth a sweet elementary school teacher ends up stealing a Van Gogh."

"Too bad Megan isn't here. You need a profiler."

"Yeah, I know. We're just going to have to make do with a mathematician this time around."

As they entered the elevator, Don said, "Is everything okay at school?"

"Yeah. I got what I needed and didn't run into anybody."

"Hey, you said yesterday that you were going to try to compare this crime to other crimes with similar elements. Any luck with that yet?"

Charlie leaned against the wall, eyes closed, and shook his head slowly. "Not really. I need more data."

"How did I know you were going to say that?" Don said with a chuckle. "You okay, Buddy?"

Charlie shrugged. "Just a little tired."

Don squeezed Charlie's shoulder. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? I'm sorry I dragged you down here."

Charlie pushed away from the wall. "I'm fine, really. I want to help you catch these people."

"And when we finish this, we'll find the kid who attacked you. I need to have a word with him."

"That 'word' wouldn't involve rubber hoses and brass knuckles, would it?"

"I like that idea, Buddy. Nothing but the best for someone who picks on my kid brother."

Charlie snorted as the elevator door opened. "I'm not a kid."

Don ruffled Charlie's hair. "You always will be to me."

"Stop it!" Charlie slapped Don's hand away, but he was laughing. "I'll tell Dad."

Liz looked up as they arrived. She winced as she caught sight of Charlie's face. "Oh, Charlie! Please tell me that doesn't feel as bad as it looks."

"It really doesn't feel that bad," he said said with a smile. "Thanks for asking. Have you got any more information for me?"

"What? You haven't solved the case yet? I'm disappointed."

Charlie dropped down onto the corner of her desk. "Well, Liz, if you'd gotten me those files I asked for..."

"Files?"

"Right. All of the cases with unusual distractions, or kids in wheelchairs. Don't tell me there hasn't been a single case like that in Los Angeles."

"Oh, those files. Follow me." She led him to the conference room, and waved at the stacks of folders on the table. "I found a couple for you."

"Wonderful!" Charlie said. He caught Liz's skeptical expression. "I'm not kidding, Liz. The more the better."

"Really? But it's like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Really. I know it's counterintuitive. But it's not really like looking for a needle in a haystack. We're looking for things these cases have in common with our case. And the more data we have, the more likely we are to find something that links one of these cases with ours."

"But how are you going to be able to sort through all this?"

"I'll just create an algorithm and input everything," he waved toward the files.

Liz shook her head. "Well, Charlie, I have no clue how you do it, but more power to you." She started to leave the room, but stopped. "You know I really respect what you do, don't you? I don't understand it, but I do respect it."

"I know. I'm sorry I was grumpy yesterday. It was a bad day, and your comments just pushed me over the edge."

"Listen, Charlie, I tend to mouth off when I feel insecure. And when I'm confronted by your amazing brain, I feel stupid, and that makes me insecure, and I say something idiotic."

"So when you make fun of me, I should take it as a compliment?" Charlie said with raised eyebrows.

"It sounds kind of dumb when you put it that way."

"Don't worry. I understand, and I promise to be less sensitive."

"Thanks. And I'll try to hold my tongue. Truce?"

Charlie stepped to the table and picked up a file. "Truce."

Don pushed open the conference room door. "We've got another theft. At the Getty this time. Colby and David are getting the details now. Liz, we need to go."

"I'd like to come along," Charlie said.

Don hesitated, then said, "Okay. Just..."

"I know. Stay out of the way."

As they walked back to the bullpen, Charlie's phone rang. He flipped it open. "Charles Eppes."

"Professor Eppes!" Millie's voice made Charlie wince. "Why didn't you tell me you were attacked by Greg Spencer?"

"Millie," Charlie said soothingly. "I was going to wait until a reasonable hour to call you."

"Well, the head of campus security was not as considerate as you are. Now that I'm awake, tell me what happened."

"Not much to tell. I left my office and was walking toward my car when Greg stopped me. He told me he needed me to stop consulting. I basically told him that wasn't going to happen. It was strange, but he looked afraid. He told me again he really needed me to stop consulting and then he hit me."

"Security tells me you refused to go to the hospital."

"I'm fine, Millie. Call Dad and ask him if you don't believe me."

"I will, smart guy. Is there any way you can put a hold on consulting until the police find Greg? He's acting irrationally, Charlie, and I really don't want you to get hurt. Again."

"I can't. We're in the middle of this case, and we just got a call that there's been another theft. And to make matters worse, the woman who stole the first painting was found murdered. After this case, if they haven't found Greg, I'll consider taking a break."

"You'll do more than consider. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist on it, my friend."

Don tapped on Charlie's shoulder. "We've got to go."

"Listen, Millie, I really have to get going. We'll discuss this later." He flipped the phone shut and closed his eyes. "I can't believe I just told my boss to verify my excuse with my daddy."

David laughed. "I can't believe you told your boss to get lost." He glanced at Don. "I'll have to try that some time."

Charlie grinned, "I wouldn't if I were you. My boss doesn't carry a gun."

"So," Don said, "tell us about the heist."

"Similar M.O.. This time it was a young man pushing a girl in a wheelchair. No skydivers this time. The distraction this time was three individuals having medical emergencies in three separate rooms at the exact same time."

Don grinned at Charlie. "And the odds of that happening are..."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Miniscule. Continue, David."

David consulted his notebook. "We had a young boy trip and fall, hitting his head on a bench. From all accounts, he was screaming loudly enough to wake the dead. There was a young pregnant woman whose water broke. She and the man with her started shrieking and panicking. Third was an elderly man with a heart attack."

Don scowled. "How'd they pull that off?"

"According to LAPD, the pregnant woman and the old guy were faking. They're still at the museum, under arrest. The little boy was taken to Huntington."

"Under arrest, I hope," Liz said.

"Me too," Don said. "Let's go. Colby, why don't you take Liz and see if you two can talk to the kid? We'll probably still be at the museum when you finish, so plan on joining us there."

Colby grinned. "We certainly are getting our culture on this case. You think we should bring the Coles into this case. You can never have too many experts."

Don chuckled. "You wouldn't say that if you had to explain the expenses to the bean counters."

Charlie said, "That's why Don uses me. He knows I don't bill for all the hours I work."

"Yeah," Don said, "if you did, we'd never be able to afford you."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

As they drove to the Getty, Charlie's cell phone rang again. He flipped it open without checking the caller ID. "Charles Eppes."

"Charlie!"

"Amita, hi."

"Charlie, are you all right? Why didn't you call me? Millie just told me what happened."

"I'm fine. Really." He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his eyes. "I've had enough mother henning to last me a month."

"Oh. Well, I didn't mean to mother hen you. I'll talk to you later." He could almost feel the temperature drop.

"Wait, Amita! I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I've had to deal with my dad and Millie already. Listen, Greg Spencer just hit me a couple of times. No stitches or anything. Just a few technicolor bruises."

"Have they caught him yet?"

"Not that I know of. But I'm with Don and David right now, so I'm well protected."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it. But please be careful."

"I will. This isn't some B movie where the good guy wanders into the basement where the monster's hiding. I promise I won't be stupid." In the front seat, Don snorted. "Shaddap, Donald. Amita, I'll see you later, okay? We're on the way to the Getty. There's been another theft. Do you think you could give me a hand when I get back?"

"Sure. Give me a call when you're on your way, and I'll meet you in your office."

"I will. And thanks."

When he had finished the conversation, he leaned forward. "Are we there yet?"

Don laughed. "Shaddap, Chuck."

"So, David, do you know what was stolen?"

"I think they said it was a Rembrandt. A little painting on a wood panel. It's less than a foot square."

Don nodded. "High priced and easy to conceal, like the Van Gogh."

"I can do a risk assessment of the other art works in the Los Angeles area. I probably still have some of the data from the case with the forged Manet. And I can ask Ben and Maggie for some help. You don't have to bring them in as paid consultants I'm sure they'll be happy to do everything they can."

"You don't have to do that," Don said. "If we need them, we'll pay them. It's only fair."

"I'll call Ben and see what he says." Charlie pulled out his cell phone and dialed. When Ben answered, Charlie explained the situation.

"A Rembrandt? Really? That's big, Charlie. You're right. They're definitely going for good quality works."

"At least it's on a wood panel. It should be a little less fragile, right?"

"Possibly. But it depends on the condition of the wood. It may be more fragile than you'd think."

"How can we find out what condition it was in?"

"The Getty has an amazing conservation department, so I'm sure they'll know the condition of the painting. I do hope the thieves know what they're doing."

"Me too. Do you think you and Maggie could help me do a risk assessment? If we can isolate common aspects of these two thefts, and use the data to determine what items might be at risk, then maybe we can prevent these thieves from stealing anything else."

"We would love to, Charlie. What do you need from us?'

"Off the top of my head: Which artists are highest priced? What would make an object easier to steal – for example, size, amount of security, that kind of thing. You have some experience with art thefts, right? And Maggie teaches museum science, so she would know about museum security. The files on the Van Gogh are still in my office. I can give you Amita's number. Maybe she could meet you there and you could get started."

Ben laughed. "Luckily, you've caught us on a Saturday when we have nothing planned. We could start doing research on the local museums, too. Since the FBI is involved in art crime, perhaps Don would have some resources we could use as well."

Charlie gave Ben Amita's number, then said with a grin, "And Don said he's willing to hire you as a consultant again. So the sky's the limit! The taxpayers' pockets are deep."

"Charlie!" Don said. "What the heck?"

Ben said, "I heard that. I take it Don is not thrilled with your offer. Tell him I'll be very careful with my hours. Perhaps you can get away with annoying your brother, but I would rather not be deported."

"Ah, Don would never have you deported. But if I don't shut up, he might see if he can figure out a way to deport me. Thanks for your help. I'll see you later."

Don pulled into the parking lot and showed his ID to the police officer at the gate. "Agent Eppes," the officer said, "they're expecting you up at the museum." He pointed to a service driveway. "Just drive up the coach road there. An officer up top will show you where to park."

"Thanks," Don said. "How quickly did you get the place locked down?"

The officer frowned and shook his head. "I doubt if we were fast enough. I think they locked the museum pretty quickly once the alarms went off, but it took a while for us to get here."

David shook his head in amazement as Don pulled around the barricade. "How on earth can they lock down a place like this?"

"I doubt if they can. Hopefully they were able to lock down the museum."

"You think our thief is still in there?" Charlie asked, amazed.

"That would be nice. But I doubt we'll be so lucky," Don said. He showed his badge to the officer at the top of the service driveway, and was directed to a spot at the base of the Grand Stairway that led to the museum.

"Hey, Charlie," Don said as they headed up the stairs. "You came here with Ben and Maggie a few months ago, right?"

"Yes, I did. It's an amazing place, isn't it?"

"Yeah. You have any feel for how secure it is?"

Charlie shook his head. "Don, I really don't pay attention to that kind of thing."

David chuckled, "But I'll bet you can tell us how many steps we're walking up."

Charlie opened his mouth to answer, but David cut him off. "That's okay. I was just trying to prove a point to Don. We all observe different things. I wouldn't expect you to know about security any more than I'd expect Don to be able to calculate the volume of marble used for this thing."

"Good point, David," Charlie said. "I would imagine the head of security would be able to tell you more about the security system than I would."

"Hey, I was just asking for your layman's observations. I wasn't expecting you to notice the four security cameras we passed, or notice that two of them weren't working."

"Whoa, Don," Charlie said, "That is impressive!"

A plainclothes police detective met them at the top of the steps. "Agent Eppes?" he addressed Don. "I'm Vito DeCola, LAPD."

Don shook hands with Vito. "Don Eppes. And this is Special Agent David Sinclair, and Professor Charlie Eppes. He's a consultant."

"Ah," DeCola said, shaking first David's hand, then Charlie's, "A professor of art?"

Charlie said, "No. Mathematics."

DeCola scowled in confusion. Then he shrugged. "Okay. Whatever floats your boat." He led them through the door. "The theft took place in the East Pavilion, where they keep their seventeenth century European art. The painting was "Daniel and Cyrus before the Idol Bel," by Rembrandt. It's nine and a quarter inches by eleven and seven-eighths inches. Done on a wood panel. Apparently this painting passed muster not too long ago as a genuine Rembrandt." He led the way into a the courtyard, and across to the East Pavilion.

"How quickly was the building secured?" Don asked. "What are the chances the thief escaped?"

DeCola sighed. "The official story is that the building was secured immediately. It's more likely that in the confusion a couple of minutes lapsed. Long enough for a guy pushing a kid in a wheelchair to sneak out. The witnesses are in the rooms surrounding the crime scene, and two of the three distractions are under arrest in one of the offices. We figured you'd want to talk to them before we send them downtown."

"That I would," Don said. "The rest of my team will be here in a little while. They're on the way to the hospital to talk to the kid who hit his head. Meanwhile, let me see where it happened."

DeCola led the way into the East Pavilion. "The m.o. was similar to the theft at the Norton Simon. The distractions took place in three rooms adjoining the room where the Rembrandt was hanging. Here, here and over there," he pointed three doorways. "And the Rembrandt was in here," he led the way into the room.

"Was anyone else in the room at the time?"

"Two people were in the room, but left when they heard the screaming in the adjacent rooms."

Charlie had been listening to DeCola, but a small painting on a wooden panel caught his attention. He tilted his head, examining the painting as he approached it. He glanced at DeCola, but the detective had his back turned. He ran his fingers around the edge of the frame and pulled the painting off its hook.

"Sir!" a woman's voice startled him. "Put the painting back, and keep your hands to yourself."

"Sorry," Charlie said, blushing as he hung the painting back on the hook.

The woman, dressed in blue slacks and a white shirt looked for all the world like a military officer. She approached Charlie. "Detective DeCola, who is this person?"

"Ms. Adams," DeCola grinned. "meet Dr. Charles Eppes. He's an FBI consultant. Dr. Eppes, meet Amber Adams, head of security at the Getty."

Charlie held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Adams."

Amber glanced at Charlie's hand then turned and walked away. "Next time, DeCola, bring a consultant who knows how to handle priceless artwork. I don't have time for this crap."

"Charlie!" Don said. "What were you doing?"

"I just wanted to see how the paintings were secured. I expected it to be screwed to the wall or something. I wonder if the Rembrandt was just hanging from a hook waiting to be picked like a ripe peach."

David laughed. "Oh, man, Charlie. You think Ms. Adams is ticked off at you now, I'd love to see what she does when you ask her that particular question."

Liz and Colby showed their badges to the receptionist at Huntington Memorial Hospital. They did not expect her reaction. "Oh, thank God! You're here for Billy Jones, right?"

"That's right," Liz said. "Why? What's wrong?"

"His mother is here and she's pitching a fit. She's demanding that we..."

"Are these the people who arrested my son?" A short, squat woman approached the desk. She glanced from Colby to Liz. "Why is my baby under arrest? He fell and hurt himself. Of course, knowing him, he was probably running or horsing around. But he's not a bad boy."

"Mrs. Jones," Colby began.

"Ms. Putnam. And who are you?"

Colby showed her his badge. "Special Agent Granger. And this is Special Agent Warner."

"FBI? Why is the FBI interested in Billy?"

Colby said, "We have reason to believe that your son may have been involved in helping someone steal a very valuable painting."

"What?! You're crazy."

"We need to talk to your son," Liz said.

"I don't know..."

"Listen," Liz took Ms. Putnam's hand. "It's important that we talk to him. I'd like you to be in the room when we..."

"Of course I'll be there. But he's just a kid. What makes you think he could be involved in something like that?"

Colby said, "It may just be a coincidence, but we have to explore all possibilities."

Liz added, "And because he's a minor, if he was coerced into cooperating with the thieves, he'd be a victim, not a criminal."

"So why's he under arrest."

Liz sighed. "He's not actually under arrest. He's being detained as a material witness. That means he has information we need to get before we can let him go."

"I'm not stupid, Agent. I know what a material witness is."

"I'm sorry. I usually assume civilians know what I'm talking about and it ends up biting me in the butt."

Ms. Putnam actually smiled at that. "That's okay. I must look like a crazed redneck. I was working in the garden when I got the call about Billy. I didn't take time to change into decent clothes. Come on. We might as well get this over with." She led the agents into an exam room. A boy lay on the bed, eyes closed, his head swathed in bandages. "Billy?" she said, approaching the bed.

He opened his eyes. "Mommy?"

"Billy, these FBI agents need to talk to you about what happened at the museum today."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes, honey, you do. I'll be here with you, but you have to answer their questions the best you can, okay?"

"Okay," he said, looking warily from Liz to Colby.

"Hi, Billy," Liz said. "I'm Agent Warner, and this is Agent Granger. You feeling up to talking with us for a few minutes?"

"Yeah."

"How old are you, Billy?"

"Almost thirteen." He noticed Liz's incredulous look. "Everybody tells me I'm small for my age. It's because my mom and dad are both short."

"Okay. What happened in the museum?"

"My buddies and I were just screwing around. I slipped and fell, and hit my head on one of those bench things." He shrugged eloquently. "And that was it."

Colby said, "You know after you fell, a very valuable painting was stolen from the museum. Now, I'm always suspicious of coincidences like that, aren't you?"

A look of fear crossed Billy's face as he blinked at Colby. "It was an accident. I swear. I just fell."

Liz smiled at Billy. "Now, you know, Billy, if you intentionally created a distraction for the thieves, you could be in very serious trouble. But if you help us find the people who did this, if you can convince the courts that you were forced or coerced into helping, then I would guess they'd treat you as a victim and not as a criminal."

Tears welled up in Billy's eyes. "But I don't know anything about any thieves. I was just fooling around with my buddies." He glanced at Colby. "It was a coincidence. You gotta believe me."

Colby exchanged glances with Liz, then said, "Billy, I don't know if you realize how serious this is. These people have already killed a woman who was working with them. If you're afraid of them..."

"I didn't have anything to do with that painting getting stolen. Mom, shouldn't we get a lawyer or something?"

"I think maybe we should." She looked at Liz. "I'm sorry, but he's right. I'm going to call my lawyer. You should go now."

"I think we're about done in here," Don said to DeCola. "Why don't we go talk to – what'd you call 'em – the distractions. Sounds like a boy band."

DeCola snorted. "Yeah. Come on. I'll take you to them. We've got them separated. We also arrested the guy who was with the fake pregnant lady. We figured he was in on it, too."

Don walked alongside DeCola, with David and Charlie trailing behind. "Okay. Good. Did you have the paramedics check out the fake pregnant lady and the fake heart attack guy to make sure they were really faking?"

"Yep. That's the first thing we did. They're both in excellent health. We sent the boy to the hospital. I don't know if he was involved, but he really did hit his head."

"Yeah, I know. I have a couple of agents at the hospital talking to him now."

They turned a corner, and came to a hallway where three police officers stood outside of three office doors. DeCola said, "How do you want to handle this?"

"David and I'll talk to one of them at a time." Don checked his watch. "Hopefully the rest of my team will be here soon. Charlie, do yo have something to keep busy with while we're doing this?"

Charlie pulled a notebook out of his bag. "I'll start working on my algorithm."

"Good," Don said, "Just stay away from the paintings."

Charlie's mouth dropped open. He pushed the notebook back into his bag. "Listen, why don't I just call a cab and go back to campus? I've got more than enough to do there."

"Charlie." Don grabbed Charlie's shoulder. "I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to say. I wasn't thinking, Buddy."

"No, you weren't," Charlie said. He sighed and pulled his notebook back out of the bag. "We can talk about this later. But for now, why don't you guys go talk to your suspects?"

Charlie was absorbed in his work, leaning against the wall, writing in his notebook, when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and met the gaze of Amber Adams. He blinked and said, "Hello."

"Hi," she said, smiling. "Listen, Professor, I'm sorry I was so nasty earlier."

"Bad day?"

Amber laughed. "That's putting it mildly. "What are you working on?"

"A threat assessment. Using data from this robbery and from the robbery at the Norton Simon, I'm trying to figure out where they'll strike next."

"Really? You can do that with all those calculations?"

He shrugged. "I'm a mathematician. I see things in numbers."

"So why were you handling the painting?"

"I just wanted to find out how it was secured. I shouldn't have touched it. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "That's the least of my worries right now."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"The painting I moved was just hanging on a hook. Was the Rembrandt hung the same way?"

"Yes, but we're not complete idiots here. Each painting has a motion detector on it."

"Why didn't any alarms go off when I moved the painting?"

"Someone triggered the system before the Rembrandt was stolen. The system hasn't been reset."

"Triggered? How?"

"About the same time the boy fell, someone touched one of the paintings in the same gallery. That set off the system."

"And drew the guards away from the Rembrandt."

"Yep. So does this go into your equation somehow?'

"Yes, it does. I'm not a security expert, but it seems to me the thieves really know about the museums they've robbed. In the Norton Simon, they knew which skylights to crash through. Here, they knew about the motion detectors."

"Well, they obviously planned ahead. These were well-coordinated attacks."

"Well-coordinated..." Charlie turned to a blank page in his notebook and began writing.

Amber chuckled. "See you later, Professor," she said as she walked away. Charlie didn't even look up.

Author's Note: I'm sure the Getty Museum is not nearly this careless with their priceless works of art. But, of course their website doesn't say anything about how they protect their art.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When Don, David and Vito entered the room, the elderly man sitting at the table looked up at them. The policeman sitting next to him stood. Vito said, "Thanks, Matt. Why don't you take a break? We'll be in here for a few minutes." Turning to the suspect, Vito said, "Elmer McGraw, these gentlemen are from the FBI. They want to talk to you about your involvement in the theft of a Rembrandt painting."

Elmer's brow furrowed. "Theft? I was hired by a company that was testing the security at the Getty."

Vito glanced at Don, giving him the signal to take over. Don put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "What company?"

"Acme Security. I have their business card in my wallet."

"Take the wallet out of your pocket with your thumb and index finger and hand it to me." He glanced at David, who had his hand on his gun.

Elmer pulled out his wallet and handed it to Don, not taking his eyes off of David. "It's in the first credit card slot."

Don opened the wallet and pulled out a business card. "Acme Security. Willy C. Oti, Security Specialist." He shook his head. "Vito, have you ever heard of Acme Security?"

"Sounds like something out of a Roadrunner cartoon to me."

"Me too. But we'll check it out just in case. Elmer, this Willy Oti is the one who contacted you?"

"Yes, sir. He hired me, a young couple, two college students, a middle aged lady and young lady."

"The couple. Were they the other ones arrested today?"

"I think so."

"Were the others here?"

"I didn't see them. Willy must have been hiring them for another job."

"Okay," Don said, starting to pace. "What was your job?"

"I was supposed to pretend to be having a heart attack. I think I did pretty well."

A smile crossed Vito's lips. "You were pretty convincing from what I've heard."

Don sat across the table from Elmer. "Have you worked with Acme before?"

"Nope. This is my first time. It's a pretty interesting job, so I'm hoping they'll call me back again."

"That's not going to happen. Acme Security was a cover for a group of thieves. They've hit two museums so far, and they've killed a woman who worked for them. And since you are an accomplice, you're in a lot of trouble."

--

Outside the room, Charlie was sitting on the floor, cross legged, writing in his notebook. "Hey, Professor," Amber said, "which room is everybody in?"

Charlie looked up, his face temporarily clouded with confusion. "Hi, Ms. Adams, Colby, Liz. Um... This one," he pointed to the door to his right. "I think. I've been concentrating on this." He held up his notebook.

The policeman standing in front of the door nodded. "He's right. They're in here."

Amber knocked on the door as Charlie got to his feet, stretching the kinks out of his legs. "How'd the interview with the boy go?"

Colby shook his head. "Not good. He denied being involved and then asked for a lawyer."

Charlie sighed. "And once they ask for a lawyer, game over."

"That's right," Liz said, craning her neck to see Charlie's notebook. "Come up with anything yet?"

"I think so. Once I get the data from Ben and Maggie, I think this will give us a good idea what they'll go for next."

Don opened the door. "Hey," he said, "Liz, Colby, you want to start with the fake pregnant lady? David and I are just about finished in here, then we'll go talk to the fake boyfriend."

"Okay, sounds good," Colby said.

"Keep at it," Liz said to Charlie.

"I will. Hey, Don," Charlie said as Don was about to close the door.

"Yeah, Charlie?" Don said.

"I want to get this into the computer. I'm going to catch a cab back to Cal Sci, unless you need me here for something."

"I think we're set. Hey, why don't you take my car and I'll ride back with Liz and Colby?"

Charlie shrugged. "Why not? There shouldn't be a lot of environmentalists milling around campus on a Saturday. I don't want to ruin my reputation by driving an SUV."

Don laughed. "Hey, Buddy, with that Prius you drive, I think you've got a few carbon credits coming your way. Or whatever they call it." He handed Charlie his keys. "Who knows. You may decide you like the view from up there." He stopped, looking intently at Charlie. "We're okay, right? I mean, that stupid comment I made..."

Charlie gripped Don's arm. "We're good. This will just go a lot faster back at the office with Ben and Maggie and Amita. But I do think we need to talk. The way things are going at school, I'm under a lot of pressure." He smiled and held up Don's keys. "I'll be careful with the behemoth."

"You'd better, Buddy. Your taxes paid for it, you know."

--

As Charlie predicted, the campus was quiet. He pulled into his parking spot, thankful that he didn't have to maneuver around too many other cars. The only other cars in his end of the lot were Ben's and Amita's. When he entered his office, Ben and Maggie were sitting side by side, studying one computer screen while Amita sat with her back toward him, entering data into her laptop.

"Hey," Charlie said, "how's it going?"

"Great," Amita said, turning to look at him. "Oh, Charlie!" She stood, raised her hand to touch his cheek, then thought better of it. "That looks awful. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. Really."

Maggie grimaced. "I hope you saw a doctor."

"Why see a doctor? I are one."

Maggie shook her head. "That was so funny I forgot to laugh. So, do you have anything on the Rembrandt that was stolen?"

"It was nine and a quarter inches by eleven and seven-eighths inches. Done on a wood panel It was something about Daniel and somebody else with an idol."

"Daniel and Cyrus before the Idol Bel?" Ben asked.

"Yes, that was it. Small and portable and worth a whole lot. Have you found anything else like it in the Los Angeles area."

Maggie laughed. "We found thousands of items that fit that description, Charlie."

"That's great! The more the merrier. I've been working on an algorithm to determine which item is the most likely to attract the thieves' attention. Amita, what have you been working on?" He perched on the arm of her chair.

Amita turned the laptop so they could both see. When she finished scrolling through her program, he laughed. "Amazing. That's almost the same as what I've been working on." He pulled out his notebook and showed her.

"Oh my gosh. You're right," Amita said, slipping an arm around his waist and giving him a squeeze.

"I know it's a cliché," Ben said, "but great minds really do think alike."

--

While Charlie and Amita fine-tuned her program, Ben and Maggie compiled a list of small, expensive works of art in the Los Angeles area. "Look at this," Ben said, pointing at the computer screen. "The Armand Hammer Museum is hosting an exhibition of Old Master prints and drawings."

"When?" Maggie asked.

"It opens on Tuesday but there's a private reception tomorrow."

Charlie, standing at the blackboard, looked over his shoulder. "Old Master prints and drawings are small and expensive, aren't they?"

"Yes," Ben said. "Looking at the list of what's going to be there, I would say some of the items are priceless."

"Okay," Charlie said, "make sure you add them to the list. And see if you can find out anything more about the private reception. How private is it? How many people will be there?" He put down his chalk and turned to face Ben. "I'm going to call Don."

Amita grinned at Charlie. "What is it? You're not having a hunch, are you?"

"I don't have hunches. Ben just found a whole roomful of high priced, highly portable works of art. I just thought Don should be told." He flipped his phone open and dialed. "Hey, Don... Not really. Not yet... I know. Listen, Ben found out the Hammer Museum is having a show of Old Master prints and drawings... Yeah. Expensive... It opens Tuesday, but there's a private reception tomorrow... Yeah, I thought you'd want to know... Okay, I'll let you know when we find out anything more... Yes, your SUV is fine... Okay, see you later." He hung up and noticed the others starting at him. "He's going to contact the museum. What?"

Maggie leaned forward, "What's going on with Don's SUV?"

"He let me drive it back here from the Getty. He's somehow gotten the idea that I'm a bad driver."

Amita laughed. "Maybe it's all those speeding tickets you got before they revoked your license last time."

"Could be," Charlie said, "But I haven't had a single ticket since I got my license back. But let's get back to work. I think the program's about ready. What do you think, Amita?"

Amita pressed a few keys on her laptop. "Okay. Here goes."

He crossed the room and stood behind Amita, leaning over to watch the monitor. "It's looking good so far," he said as he squeezed her shoulder. "You are awesome."

She pressed her cheek against his hand. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself. I think we're ready to input the data Ben and Maggie have come up with."

"You're looking for size and value, right?" Ben said, pulling out a legal pad full of notes.

"Right," Charlie said.

"But," Maggie said, "won't it help to include a rating of the museum's security as well? I would think that would make a difference to the thieves."

"It would," Charlie said, "but how are you going to get that information? I doubt if the museums include their security measures on their websites."

"No, but I'm aware of the security at some of the local museums. And I'm a member of a museum security email list What I don't know, I can probably find within a couple of hours."

"If you could find it, we definitely could use it. How would you rate security?"

Maggie glanced at Ben, who shrugged. She said, "I suppose I'd establish a scale of one to ten, and determine the relative effectiveness of different security measures."

"Okay," Amita said, "so we could say that one if most effective, and ten is least, so,..." Her brow furrowed as she typed.

"That looks good," Charlie said. "In fact, I think I should have Don pay you half of my fee for this case."

Amita grinned. "I could certainly use the money!"

"I'll mention it next time I see him."

"Oh, Charlie, I was just kidding. He's got enough to worry about, and besides, I've enjoyed working with you on these cases the past few years."

"But you're a professor now, not a student. You deserve to be recognized for your contribution to these cases. I'm going to suggest he get you clearance and put you on the roster of consultants."

Amita shook her head. "No. I'm happy to keep working this way. Speaking of working, let's finish this up and talk later. I want to get home in time to watch Saturday Night Live. I missed Law and Order last night."

"Law and Order?" Charlie scoffed. "Who watches that thing any more? Sorry. Back to work. Ben, what do you have?"

Two hours later, Charlie had a list of possible targets. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Don. "Hey, bro, we've got a list to send you. They're rated based on how easy they are to conceal and transport, how valuable they are, and the security of the museum."

"That's great, Buddy. You want to fax it or email it?"

"Amita's emailing it right now. And speaking of Amita, I think it's time you got her clearance and added her to the list of consultants."

"You know that's going to cut your fees in half, right? Sometimes even more, since Amita seems to be the one doing all the work."

"True dat, Bro. I told her she deserves to be paid for her work."

"Wow, you must have it bad for her if you're willing to take a pay cut."

Charlie smiled and squeezed Amita's hand. "I do have it bad for her. Until you can start paying her, I'll give her a share of my fee." She started to object, but Charlie gave her a kiss.

"Hey," Don's voice boomed loud enough for everyone in the room to hear it. "No public displays of affection on the taxpayer's dime."

Charlie chuckled. "I'll be sure to mention that to Liz."

"Don't you dare. Hey, you heading home now? I can drive your rice burner over and swap cars with you."

"Yeah, I think we're about ready to finish up here. Hey, I've got a couple of nice ribeyes to throw on the grill when you get there. As long as it's not breakfast time by then."

"I'll definitely be there in time for ribeye. How about I pick up a pie for dessert?"

"Sounds great. See ya."

--

Charlie climbed into the SUV and watched as Amita, Ben and Maggie pulled out of the lot, turning left onto the campus access road. He followed them to the road where he turned right. He rubbed his eyes, realizing he should have taken an ibuprofen before he left. As he drove, he noticed two students walking on the grass alongside the road, engaged in conversation. He had just about overtaken them when they stepped into the road, not even looking behind them. He jerked the steering wheel to the left, stomping on the brake and clutch at the same time.

He hadn't even come to a stop when the windshield exploded, showering him with pebbles of safety glass. Almost immediately a beige Chevy ahead of him squealed away. It was too far for him to see the license plate, so he shifted into gear and sped after the car. The SUV had amazing acceleration, bringing him close enough to read the license plate after only two blocks. "9JLM171... 9JLM171..." he murmured as he struggled to handle the unwieldy SUV.

Suddenly a hand reached out of the passenger side window of the Chevy, holding a gun. The shot went wide, but Charlie slammed on the brakes, forgetting to press the clutch this time. The SUV stalled, and by the time he got it started, the Chevy was out of sight. With a sigh, he pulled over to the site of the road, and, hands shaking, pulled out his cell phone.

"Eppes," Don's voice answered.

"D... Don?"

"Charlie? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Charlie nodded.

"Charlie? Charlie! Are you there?"

"I'm okay, Don. Sorry. I'm just a little shaken up."

"What happened?"

Charlie took a deep breath so he could get the whole thing out without Don interrupting. "Someone shot at me. I wasn't hurt, but your windshield shattered." Charlie waited for Don's explosion. "Don?"

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I got the license number. 9JLM171. I tried to chase them, but they took another shot at me, and I ... I stalled the car. I forgot to step on the clutch when I hit the brake."

"I'm glad you stalled it. Why the hell were you chasing them?"

"I wanted to get their license plate number. I thought it was important."

"It is. I'll have Colby run the plate while I come get you. Where are you?"

"About two blocks from campus." Charlie looked around and once he determined exactly where he was, he gave Don directions.

"Is there anyone around?"

"Just the normal traffic. Nobody seems to be hanging around. Why?"

"You think it's safe where you are?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in about half an hour. Lock your doors."

Charlie laughed. "With no windshield, what good will that do?"

"Good point. Just stay alert, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Don."

After finishing the call, Charlie made sure the way was clear, and got out of the SUV. He brushed the glass fragments from his clothes and hair and brushed his seat clear before climbing back into the car. When he reached for his bag, he noticed a hole in the passenger's seat. A quick calculation told him that if he hadn't swerved to avoid the two oblivious students, he would have been dead. He touched the hole, and, without thinking, locked the car door.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Don hung up and stared at the phone.

"Don?" David looked up from the computer screen. "What's wrong? Is Charlie okay?"

"Somebody shot at him. I've got to go." He headed toward the elevator. "You guys keep going through the stuff Charlie emailed me, okay?"

"Don," Liz said, rushing to keep up with him, "want me to come with you?"

"Yeah, okay." He pushed the button to summon the elevator. "We're going to have to drive Charlie's Prius, though. He's got my SUV."

"That's okay. I always wanted to try one of those things. Is it true they don't make any noise when they start?"

"It's true." They got into the elevator. "It's the weirdest thing. You put your foot on the brake and press the power button. The car scans the key to make sure it's the key that belongs to that car and then the ready light comes on. No engine noise. No nothing. It's a riot."

As they drove to Cal Sci, Don showed Liz all the electronic gadgets. They both marveled at the rear-view camera. "What a neat toy," Liz said, grinning. "I'm going to have to get Charlie to let me drive this thing some time."

At the mention of Charlie, Don frowned and drove a little faster. "I hope he's okay. He was pretty shaken up."

"I can understand why. Getting shot at is always unnerving."

"It's like the third time he's been shot at since he's been working with me. He almost got taken out by a sniper, and then there was the attack on our office..."

"I remember hearing about that. Charlie was there?"

"Yeah. He was trying to explain one of his off the wall math things, and one of the bullets hits the white board, like right next to his hand. He really took it hard. He wouldn't come back to the office at first."

"What made him come back?"

Don smiled and shook his head. "He couldn't get his algorithm to work without actually seeing the shooter's path in person. So his need to solve the problem overcame his fear and he came back." Don bit his lip. "It's amazing how much he's grown in the last couple of years."

"Say, is that your SUV?" She pointed.

"Yeah," He pulled the Prius in front of the SUV.

Charlie climbed out of the SUV, grinning nervously. "Boy, am I glad to see you two."

Don's hand slipped involuntarily to his gun. "Why? Did you have any trouble while you were waiting for us?"

"No. But come here," Charlie led the way back to Don's car. "You're not going to believe this." He showed them the bullet hole in the passenger's seat.

"Wow, Buddy," Don murmured as he stuck his fingers into the hole. "It went clean through. That was really close."

"Closer than you'd think. Just before the windshield exploded, two students stepped in front of the car. I had to swerve to the left to avoid them." He paused, letting the significance of that sink in. He patted his chest. "The bullet would have gone right here if they hadn't stepped in front of me."

Liz put her arm around Charlie's shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Physically, yeah." He held up his shaking hand. "Emotionally, I'm a little frazzled right now. I mean, I know some of my students were upset at me, but to do this," he gestured at the SUV, "that's really bizarre."

Don walked around the SUV, studying the damage. "You know, Buddy, they may not have been after you."

"What?" Charlie looked confused at first, then comprehension dawned and he nodded. "This is your car. If they didn't see me get into it, they would assume it was you driving. The shooting happened out of sight of the parking lot, so it's possible they were just watching for your SUV to pull out of the driveway." He shook his head. "Either way, it's a very unsettling experience. I mean, does it really matter which one of us they thought they were shooting at?"

Don grinned, "Well, I think it would make a difference to the dead guy."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do," Don said, walking back to where Charlie and Liz stood.

"Well, if they're trying to kill me, chances are it has something to do with a case I'm working on with you. I mean, math professors rarely drive people to homicidal thoughts."

"There's your NSA stuff or whatever other government agencies you're working with."

"There's not much of that going on right now, and what there is is not likely to evoke hostility."

"So it's either related to one of our cases, or to the guys who beat you up, right? Any word on whether they've been apprehended yet?"

"I haven't heard anything. But it's a big leap from a few punches to murder."

"True. Listen, why don't I drive the SUV, and you drive your rice burner. We'll head back to your place and have those ribeyes you mentioned. You don't mind if Liz joins us, do you?"

"Not at all."

"Hey, Charlie," said Liz, "why don't I drive your car for you?"

"I'm okay to drive. My hands aren't shaking half as bad as they were earlier."

"I know you're okay. I just wanted to try the Prius. Don wouldn't let me drive on the way over here, and I would really like to try it."

Charlie studied her face, then nodded slowly. "All right. But if I find out you're doing this just because you're worried about me, I'll ..."

"You'll what?" Liz said, grinning.

"I'll make you do the dishes."

"I'll lead the way," Don said. "But I'm going to park on the street. I don't want to risk Dad seeing the windshield."

"Good idea," Charlie said, chuckling. "He'd really freak out."

"Yeah, especially if he found out you were the one driving when it happened."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Though he is getting better than he used to be. I guess he's finally accepted the fact that I'm going to do what I'm going to do no matter what he says."

"But he is still the Papa Bear," Don said. He handed Liz Charlie's keys.

"True," Charlie reached in his pocket and handed Don the keys to the SUV. "Hey, did you guys get a chance to go over the list I emailed you?"

"I saw it, but didn't really go over it. David and Colby are going through it now. That exhibition at the Hammer Museum sounds really promising though. I'm thinking of taking the team undercover Tuesday to mingle among the patrons. Maybe we can catch the thieves in the act."

Liz nodded. "I like that idea. They haven't used deadly force during the thefts, so it seems like it would be low risk."

Charlie nodded. "It should be." His eyes reflected his concern as he looked at Don. "But don't forget Heisenberg's uncertainty principle."

"Who could forget Heisenberg's uncertainty principle?" Don said. "But since we know that they're going to adapt, we can be ready for them."

"Uh," Liz said, "what's Heisenberg's uncertainty principle?"

Don clapped Charlie on the shoulder and opened the door of the SUV. "Why don't you tell her all about it on the way home?"

"Hey Don," Liz called.

"Yeah?" Don answered, leaning back out of the SUV.

"Shouldn't we call a crime scene team?"

"Crap," Don got out of the SUV and walked up to the Prius. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking like a brother, not like an agent." Liz glanced at Charlie, grinning as Don dialed. "I think he was worried about you, Charlie. It appears to have shaken him up more than he's willing to admit."

Charlie brought both hands up and rubbed his face, grimacing as they made contact with the bruises. "He's not the only one. I think both of our brains are fried. I should have called the Pasadena Police while I was waiting. The shooters could have come back to finish me off. Instead I sat there playing minesweeper."

"Minesweeper?" Liz said. "Here I figured you were working on the case."

Charlie scowled and opened his mouth to answer. Suddenly he stopped and smiled. "You almost got me. That's your humor, right?"

Liz grinned. "You sound like Mork from Ork. 'Humor. Arr arr.'"

"Nanoo nanoo," Charlie replied.

Don closed his phone. "The techs are on their way. It shouldn't take 'em long to clear the SUV, and I told them you'd be able to show them where you were when it happened, and where you estimate the attackers were. Then we'll be free to go." He glanced from Charlie to Liz. "What's wrong? You two squabbling again?"

Liz stood, hands on hips. "Don, your brother was slacking off playing computer games instead of working on the case."

"Aw, Liz," Don said, laughing, "Give the guy a break, will ya? He's done enough work for today. Hey, Charlie, you got Freecell on that laptop of yours?"

"Sure. You want to play while we're waiting?" He reached for his bag. "Man, I left it in your car, Don. Is it unlocked?"

Don pointed the key at the SUV and pushed the "unlock" button. "It is now."

As Charlie walked to the SUV, a police cruiser pulled up. The officer in the passenger's side rolled down his window. "I'm sorry, sir, this is a no parking zone."

"Oh, sorry. This is an FBI case, officer," Charlie said.

The officer laughed. "Listen, kid, you trying to tell me you're an FBI agent?"

"Consultant, actually. My brother, over there," Charlie waved in the direction of the Prius, "is the Special Agent in charge of this case. The lovely lady with him is also a Special Agent."

The officer got out of the car. "Why don't you assume the position, kid?"

"The position?"

"Hands up against the car, legs spread."

Charlie turned, placing his hands on the side of the SUV.

Don approached, holding up his badge. "What's going on, officer? Why are you harassing Dr. Eppes?"

The officer's eyes widened as he studied Don's badge. "I'm sorry, Agent." He turned to Charlie, "Dr. Charles Eppes? From Cal Sci?"

"Yes," Charlie said, turning around to face the officer. "May I stop assuming the position?"

"Of course. I am sorry, Doctor. We were investigating a report of gunfire in the area. Did you notice anything?"

Charlie chuckled. "I was there. The shots were fired at me. That's why the FBI is investigating."

Don added, "We've got a team of techs on the way. We've got it under control, officer. But thank you for stopping by to make sure everything was okay."

"All right, we'll just call it in and be on our way." The officer turned to go back to the cruiser. Charlie retrieved his bag, and he, Don and Liz sat on the grass near the cars. After a few minutes, the two Pasadena officers drove off.

Charlie gave them a perfunctory wave as he handed his laptop to Don. "What do you want to bet they were checking up on me? That guy thought I was a kid. I didn't know what he was going to do when I assumed the position."

Don laughed. "Nah. They were probably calling to see if Liz and I were impersonating federal agents." Don pressed a few keys on the laptop. "Hey, buddy, you wanted me to format the hard drive first, right?"

"Sure. Go ahead. I've got half a dozen of your cases on there and my stuff is backed up," Charlie said with a shrug. But he leaned over to watch what Don was doing, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Freecell on the screen.

"What?" Don said. "You didn't think I was really going to do it, did you?"

"Of course not," Charlie murmured as he watched Don clicking on the images of playing cards and moving them to reveal new layers of cards. "You have seven people in custody, plus the little boy in the hospital, right?"

"Yeah," Don said, sliding the ace of diamonds to its spot at the time of the playing board. "Why?"

"And so far, we've been thinking of Ellen Davis and the four skydivers as one group, and the heart attack guy, the kid, and the fake pregnant lady and her boyfriend as a separate group, like a completed column in Freecell. But they aren't separate. All nine of them are part of the same larger group. Your column headed by the black ten is part of the same group as the red king, black queen and red jack over there. And they're part of the group that includes a black four, red three and black two. In Freecell, you end up with four piles of cards. In this case, the columns merge at the top. One or more king... " he grinned at Liz, "or queen... is at the top of all of the columns. There is something that ties the columns to other columns."

Don looked up at Charlie. "So what are you proposing we do?"

"I think we need to take this in two steps. First, I'll check for commonalities. See if your skydivers have something in common with your fake pregnant lady, other than the guy at the top who ties them all together. They probably don't have anything in common, but we've got to eliminate it. I'm assuming the groups that commit the individual crimes are kind of like terrorist cells."

Don nodded. "Like the terrorists who were trying to put sarin in the water supply. They operated without knowledge of the other cells, all following the plan of a single mastermind."

"Right," Liz said, "but then we also have to explore the possibility that whoever shot at Charlie is part of this hive of cells."

Don pursed his lips. "And I think we should also see if the students who attacked Charlie are involved in this hive as well."

Charlie's brow furrowed. "I don't think they are, but it won't hurt to check. You'll have to get a warrant for the students' records. Academics tend to be somewhat suspicious of ..."

"Jack booted thugs?" Don supplied.

"I was going to say law enforcement officers, but jack booted thugs works just fine."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Charlie rummaged in his bag and pulled out his notebook.

Don held up the laptop, "You need this? I can end my game."

"Hmm? No. Keep playing. I have to think this out first." He began writing in his notebook. He was still writing when the crime scene techs arrived.

Don stood when the van pulled up. "Hey, guys," he said as the door opened. "Scott! How's it going?"

"Hey, Agent Eppes, what's up?" Scott said. "I hear it was your SUV that got shot up. You okay?"

"I'm fine. My brother Charlie and I swapped cars earlier. He was driving. But he's okay too. Scott Ward, have you met Special Agent Liz Warner? And this is my brother, Charlie Eppes."

Hands were shaken all around, then they all walked toward Don's SUV. Charlie pointed out the bullet hole in the seat, then they stepped back and let Scott's team do their work.

As they waited, Charlie said, "I'll need everything you have on the people we know are involved in these thefts. And, when you get the students' records, I'll need them too." He shook his head. "I still don't think they're involved in the thefts, the murder, the shooting. They're just students and protest seems to be what students do for a living."

Don chuckled. "Right. If they can't find anything big to protest, they protest the quality of food service. But I'll get you everything I can. You always need more data."

Liz grinned at that. "I've never seen anyone who can go through data like you do, Charlie."

Don's cell phone rang. "Eppes... Okay, great... I'll let him know... All right. Keep me posted. ... Yearh, they're here now, going over my SUV... We're going to Charlie's house, but then I'll be back in... Okay, see you later."

He flipped the phone shut and met Charlie's curious gaze. "Let me know what?"

"That license number you gave me? That Chevy is registered to a Jason LoBella. He's one of the students who filed a complaint against you, right?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.

"Of course, he claims his car was stolen. But that's what they all say. Colby's checking on his story now."

Charlie turned, shaking his head. "It has to be true. That his car was stolen, I mean. Jason's a good kid. He would never try to kill me."

"And I'll bet you thought Greg Spencer would never beat you up, either, right?"

Charlie glared at Don. "You're right. I didn't. And I was wrong then, so I must be wrong now. Is that the way it is, Don?"

"No, Buddy." Don put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I just want you to be open to the possibility, so it doesn't affect your math."

"Don, even in the Finn Montgomery ... suicide... I didn't let my feelings about the case affect my math." At Don's skeptical look, Charlie continued, "Granted my feelings made me work on the case after everyone else was convinced Finn had killed himself. But was there a single result I came up with that was wrong?"

"No. Everything you came up with was right."

"And it will be right this time, too." Charlie looked up. "Here comes Scott. Let's see what they found."

"We found the bullet, Don," Scott said, holding up an evidence bag. "I understand the shooting took place at a different location."

Charlie led the way in his Prius, followed by Liz and Don in his SUV, who were in turn followed by the crime scene team in their van. Charlie pulled over, got out and waited for the others. Don turned on his flashing lights and got out to direct traffic. "Charlie," he said, "where were you when they shot at you?"

"Over here," Charlie pointed, and waited as Don stopped the oncoming cars. "See the glass?"

"And the skidmarks," Don said. "You peeled out after them, didn't you?"

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"Of course. But I'm not a civilian. And being a consultant doesn't count."

Don directed traffic while Scott's team picked up what little evidence there was. When they finished, Scott approached Charlie, "Where was their car when you first noticed it?"

Charlie pointed to a driveway about half a block away. "They pulled out of that driveway."

When the team finished their work, they headed back to the office. Don, Liz and Charlie headed for Charlie's house. As they agreed, Don parked on the street, and Charlie pulled into the driveway.

Alan met them at the door. "I expected you earlier. The ribeyes are sitting out, but I turned the grill off a while ago." He studied his sons' faces. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Don and Charlie said together.

"Liz, give me a hand here. Did those two guys answer just a little bit too quickly?"

Liz laughed. "Mr. Eppes, everything is fine. It's just been a very long day."

"Oh, great. Now the two of them have gotten you to lie for them. And, please, call me Alan." He led the way into the living room. "Who would like a beer?"

All three raised their hands, and Charlie said, "Thanks, Dad." He headed toward the back door. "I'm going to start the grill up again."

"You sit. I'll get the grill. You drink your beer. Maybe if I get enough alcohol into the three of you, one of you will tell me the truth."

--

It was getting dark as Colby and David pulled into the parking lot near Jason LoBella's dorm. "So," Colby said, "It sounds like Don didn't believe LoBella's story about his car being stolen."

David chuckled as he glanced at Colby. "And you do believe it?"

Colby laughed. "Not at all."

As they entered the dorm, David sniffed. "I didn't expect to smell pot at Cal Sci. They need their braincells here. You'd think they'd stay away from that stuff."

"True," Colby said, "But it is the weekend. Even geniuses need a break."

"Let's hope our guy is feeling mellow enough to tell us the truth."

They walked down the hallway to Jason LoBella's room, and David knocked on the frame of the open door. "Jason LoBella?"

A young man with close cropped curly black hair looked up from his desk, and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Yes? Oh, you're the cops here about my car?"

The agents flashed their badges and both said, "FBI."

"FBI? Since when do the feds investigate stolen cars?"

"Since the vehicle in question was used in an attack on a consultant working on an FBI case," Colby said.

"Consultant? What are you talking about? Did you find my car?"

"No sign of the car yet," Colby said, stepping into the room. "But the consultant got the license number, and, surprise, surprise, we find out there's a stolen vehicle report."

"Jason, you're one of the students who filed a complaint against Professor Eppes, right?"

Jason's mouth dropped open, and his face turned white. "The consultant who was shot at... It was Dr. Eppes, wasn't it? Is he okay?"

"Yeah," Colby said, "You got lucky."

"Me? I didn't have anything to do with this."

David shook his head, smiling, "Agent Granger, do you believe in coincidences?"

"Not on your life, Agent Sinclair. Too bad Professor Eppes isn't here. He'd be able to tell us the odds that Mr. LoBella's car just happened to be the one that was stolen to be used to attack the professor that Mr. LoBella filed a complaint against."

"Agent Granger, that was one of the most poorly constructed sentences I've heard in a long time."

"But Mr. LoBella understands it perfectly, don't you, Jason?"

Jason buried his face in his hands. "Dan borrowed my car last night."

"Daniel Weimar?" Colby asked.

"Yeah. He promised to bring it back this morning. When I couldn't get ahold of him, I was pissed off. So I filed the stolen vehicle report."

David flipped his cell phone open. "Don, we're with LoBella now. He let Daniel Weimar borrow his car last night... Yeah, he's one of the other kids who filed the complaint against Charlie... Okay, we'll follow up on it."

David closed his phone and said to Jason, "You're going to need to come with us to file a formal report."

"But I have to study."

"On a Saturday night?" Colby took a step toward Jason. "We'll have you back before bedtime, and you can do your studying tomorrow. If you'd like, you can bring your books with you."

--

Don put his phone away and shook his head. "Crap," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" Charlie asked.

"Listen, that was David. Jason LoBella let Daniel Weimar take his car last night. Weimar hasn't brought the car back."

Charlie slumped in his seat. "So it sounds like they were after me. Unless," he looked up and met Don's gaze, "unless they are part of the gang of art thieves. I'm going to start on that algorithm we discussed earlier." He grabbed his bag and headed for the garage.

"Charlie!" Don called, "What about supper?"

"Come get me when it's ready."

Don put his arm around Liz. "Yeah, like that's going to happen. He suffers from selective deafness when he's working."

"Even when ribeye is involved?"

"Okay, maybe not then. But you've seen him when he works. A nuclear bomb could go off and it wouldn't faze him."

"True," Liz took a sip of her beer. "Should I see if your dad needs help?"

"In a minute," Don murmured as he leaned over to give Liz a kiss.

"Hey, Donnie," Alan called from the kitchen.

Don and Liz exchanged rueful glances. He gave her a quick kiss. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Can you give me a hand out here?"

Don stood. "Be right there." Leaning to whisper in Liz's ear, he added, "His timing is impeccable as usual."

"What's up, Dad?" Don asked as he and Liz walked into the kitchen.

"Could you start carrying things into the dining room? Everything's just about ready. And when you finish that, start trying to get your brother out of the garage."

"How'd you know he was in there?" Don asked as he picked up the salad bowl.

"Father's intuition. Something is bothering the three of you, and when he's bothered, he tries to come up with a solution."

"Nothing's bothering us," Don said as he pushed through the swinging door.

"Liz," Alan said, "grab another beer for Don, would you?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Charlie stood at one of his blackboards, writing furiously. At the sound of the door opening, he glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, Don. Supper ready?"

"Yeah. Dad is still wondering what's going on. Don't be surprised if he plies you with liquor."

Charlie sighed. "I'm going to tell him."

"Are you sure?"

Charlie nodded. "He has a right to know. We're not sure which of us was being targeted. We're not even sure why we're being targeted. What if they decide to go after Dad next?"

"Don't you think that's stretching it a bit?"

"It may be. But he knows something's going on, and knowing Dad, he's not going to give up until he finds out."

Don patted Charlie on the shoulder. "That must be where you got it from." At Charlie's scowl, he added, "But don't worry. I've got your back, Buddy." He nodded toward the blackboard. "How's it coming?"

"I think it's ready for me to input. I'm going to get back to it after supper." He grinned. "Or, depending on how Dad reacts, it may be sooner."

Liz handed them each a beer as they entered the dining room. "Your father's orders" she said, grinning.

Charlie took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen. "Dad?"

Alan turned. "Yes?"

Charlie handed Alan the beer. "Here. I don't need this. I'm going to tell you what happened today."

"Do I need to sit down?"

"It wouldn't hurt," Charlie said, pulling over two kitchen chairs. He waited until his father sat, and then he sat in front of him. "Today I was driving Don's car. I was leaving campus and someone shot at me."

Alan grabbed Charlie's shoulders and studied his face closely. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dad. The bullet shattered the windshield and went into the passenger's seat."

"Who did it?"

"We don't know yet. We don't even know if they were after me or Don. That's one of the reasons I decided to tell you. Since we don't know who they're after, or why, I think you should be careful."

"You are the one who needs to be careful." Alan touched Charlie's bruised cheek. "You've been beaten up and shot at already."

Charlie patted Alan's hand. "I am being careful. I just need you and Don to be careful too." He stood. "What can I do to help with supper?"

"That's it? I don't even get time to raise a fuss?"

"I'm hungry," Charlie said, grinning. "Can you raise your fuss after we eat?"

Don and Liz looked up as Alan and Charlie carried the steaks into the dining room. "Hey," Don said, "you're still alive, Buddy. And I didn't hear any screaming from the kitchen."

Alan scowled at Don. "Your brother was hungry after his ordeal today. An ordeal you could have told me about."

"What? I've been working. Chuck could have called you while he was waiting at the scene for me. But he was busy playing computer games."

Charlie punched Don on the arm. "Hey! What happened to 'I've got your back?'"

"Boys!" Alan scolded, "Cut it out. Sit down and eat your supper before it gets cold."

Alan," Liz said after she'd swallowed her first bite of steak, "the steak is fantastic. Do you mind if I ask, what's your secret?"

"Thank you, Liz. The secret is to find a good butcher."

Don chuckled. "And it helps if you date the butcher, right Dad?"

"We had one date. We decided we were better off as butcher and customer."

Charlie looked up from cutting his steak. "And a wonderful relationship it is, too.

"So, Charlie," Alan began, "is it possible this shooting is related to the case you and Don are working on?"

"Whoa," Charlie said, "Where did that come from?"

"You didn't really think you could drop a bomb like that and then distract me with supper, did you?"

"And here I thought it worked." Charlie paused to take a drink of beer. "It is possible they're related. It's also possible the shooting is related to the students who filed the complaint against me. We're exploring both possibilities."

"We're also exploring the possibility that its a random act of violence," Don added.

"In that neighborhood? Do you really think that's possible?" Alan scoffed.

"Hey," Don said, shrugging, "we're leaving no stone unturned.'

"Well," Charlie said, "after supper, I'm going to run my algorithm and hopefully it'll give us some idea what's going on."

"Oh my," Liz said, "You're doing this without Amita to write the program for you?"

"She wanted to watch Saturday Night Live," Charlie said. He glanced at his watch, "But I could see if she'd mind coming over here to watch it."

"How romantic," Liz smirked. "You didn't even invite her over for dinner. Just a bit of programming followed by an hour and a half of bad comedy."

"It's not that bad," Charlie objected. He picked up his phone and started dialing.

"Stop!" Alan said. "You are not going to drag Amita out at this hour of the night to do something you're perfectly capable of doing yourself."

"But Amita loves working on this kind of thing."

"Charlie," Alan said, reaching over to close Charlie's phone, "if I know you, you've already had her working all day on this thing. Give the girl a break." He smiled ruefully at Liz. "My sons have to be the least romantic men on earth. At least Don brought you over for dinner after making you work all day."

Liz took Don's hand. "I enjoy working for Don. Especially when it involves dinner at Chez Eppes."

After the table was cleared and the dishes done, Charlie went to the garage to work on his program. When he returned, Don was dozing and Alan and Liz were critiquing the current cast of Saturday Night Live.

"I don't know, Alan, I like Amy Poehler."

"She's no Jane Curtin."

"Hey, Don!" Charlie flopped onto the couch next to his brother.

"Hmmm? What?" Don sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Guess who Ellen Davis is connected with?"

"Uh... Billy Jones? Was she his teacher?"

"No. Ellen Davis' maiden name was Spencer. Granted, it's a pretty common surname. However, she was Greg Spencer's cousin."

"Really?" Alan said, sitting up and reaching for the TV controller. "SNL has gone steadily downhill since the John Belushi days." He turned off the TV. "So the students who are making your life miserable are involved in the museum thefts?"

"We don't know that," Charlie said softly. He looked away from Alan's skeptical expression. "Not for sure, anyway. But... it's looking like a good possibility."

Don said, "So the whole thing with filing the complaint against you could have been intended to keep you from consulting on this case." Charlie looked so miserable, Don sat up and patted him on the shoulder. "You okay, Buddy?"

"Yeah. I just can't believe Greg, Jason and Daniel were involved in this. Could Greg have been involved in his cousin's death?" Charlie stood. "I've got the file on the murder. I'll see if there's anything connecting him to her murder." His face brightened. "It still stinks, but maybe she was murdered for some reason totally unrelated to the thefts." He headed back to the garage. "I'll be back. Enjoy your show."

Alan shook his head and turned the TV back on.

--

As Charlie worked, he became aware of his cell phone ringing. He flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Charlie," Amita said, "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

Charlie laughed. "You know me better than that. I'm making a few changes to my program."

"I'm disappointed you didn't call me to help."

"Oh, wait until Dad hears this. I wanted to call you, but he told me I should give you a break. He also said Don and I are the two least romantic men on earth."

Amita chuckled. "I don't know about Don, but you're very romantic. And you can tell your father I said so."

He felt the heat rising to his face at the sound of her voice. "I... I will," he stammered.

"How about I come over there and help you with your program?"

Charlie checked his watch. "It's almost midnight. You don't need..."

"I know I don't need to. I want to. Besides, at this hour, the traffic should be bearable."

"My dad will kill me if you show up. He'll be convinced I talked you into coming."

"I'll come to the door and ask if you're home."

Charlie grinned. "That'll work. If you'd like, I can reheat supper for you. We had ribeye."

"That's okay. I ate hours ago. Just make sure there's lots of coffee. If we're going to pull an all-nighter, we're going to need it."

"Good idea. See you in a few minutes. By the way, why aren't you watching Saturday Night Live?"

"It's a rerun. Love you."

Charlie smiled as he closed his phone. He decided to start the coffee before he got engrossed in his work again. As he walked through the living room, Alan looked up at him. "Sorry to interrupt again," he said softly. "I'm making coffee. Anybody want any?"

"Coffee? At this hour?" Alan scoffed. "You'll never get to sleep."

"I'm planning on working on this 'til my program's done. Only the best for the FBI," he added with a grin.

"Charlie," Don said, "you don't have to do that."

"You want to be ready for the big show at the Hammer, right? That doesn't give us a lot of time to figure out what's going on." With an obviously fake sigh, he continued, "And since you're too busy watching TV, it falls to me, the lowly consultant to solve the case yet again!" He dodged a pillow thrown by Don. "Hey! So that's the thanks I get!"

"That and a hefty consulting fee," Don chuckled.

"Seriously, I want to work this out when it's fresh in my mind," Charlie said as he went into the kitchen to make the coffee.

He was safely in the garage, engrossed in his programming, when Amita arrived. He hid a smile when Alan opened the door to the garage. "Charlie, you have company."

Charlie stood, feigning surprise. "Amita! What are you doing here? At this hour?" At Alan's sharp glance, he shrugged, "What? I didn't call her."

"Right," Alan said. "Amita, I can trust you to tell me the truth. My son didn't call you and ask you to drive over here at midnight, did he?"

"Of course not," Amita said. "He's much too considerate to do a thing like that." Alan snorted and Amita shrugged. "I figured he'd be up working on something more interesting than a Saturday Night Live rerun."

As Alan walked back to the living room, Charlie could hear him mutter, "Anything is more interesting than this particular rerun."

Charlie wrapped Amita in his arms and gave her a kiss. "I can think of more interesting things to do than programming..."

"With everybody in the next room? Not a chance!" Amita gave him a peck on the cheek and pulled free of his arms to go look at the computer. "What have you got so far?"


	11. Chapter 11

Alan was the first one to wake up. He headed downstairs to make coffee and see how many people were still around for breakfast. He had already surreptitiously checked the bedrooms and found them empty. The living room was empty, but the door to the garage was open and the lights were still on. He peeked into the garage and smiled at the sight of Charlie and Amita sound asleep curled up together on the ratty old couch.

A quick peek out the front window revealed that Don's SUV was gone. He started the pot of coffee, cleaned and hulled some strawberries and checked the supply of eggs and bagels. Perfect. Now to wait for the sleepy heads to wake up. He had just settled down with the Sunday paper when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Alan, this is Ben Cole. I hope I haven't called too early."

"No, not at all. How are you and Maggie?"

"We're just fine, thank you. And yourself?"

"Very well, thanks. What can I do for you?"

"Is Charlie available? I tried his cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail."

"He's still asleep. He was working until the wee small hours of the morning. May I take a message?"

"Yes, thanks. Maggie and I have gotten six tickets to the opening reception for the Old Masters show at the Armand Hammer Museum. Don and Liz are joining us, and I just wondered if Charlie and Amita would be able to come as well. It's this evening at seven o'clock."

"I'll ask them when they get up. Old Masters? Paintings?"

"No, unfortunately. Prints and drawings. It looks to be an excellent show. I'm sorry I didn't think to ask you if you'd care to join us. If you'd like, I can pick up a ticket for you..."

"I don't want to inconvenience you..."

"No inconvenience at all. We'd enjoy your company."

"I'll pay you back for the ticket."

"You will do no such thing. Consider if a small thank you for all the hospitality you've shown us since we've been in Los Angeles. Please, let me buy your ticket."

Alan sighed. "All right. But only if you'll join us for dinner. We can carpool to the museum."

"Ahh, Alan, you drive a hard bargain. What time would you like us to arrive?"

"Why don't we plan on dinner at five? You can come by any time before then, of course. I'll invite Don and Liz. And, thank you, Ben. I'm looking forward to the show."

Ben chuckled. "No. Thank you. We'll see you this evening."

When Alan hung up, he sat back down with the paper, and opened to the arts and entertainment section. There was a two-page article about the show at the Hammer. He could see why Ben and Maggie were interested in seeing it. He could even understand why Charlie would be interested in it. Charlie was interested in everything. But Don? Well, maybe Liz liked art. He realized he didn't really know a lot about Don's latest love interest. Latest. That was a terrible way to think about his older son's love life. Alan had really held out hopes for Don's relationship with Robin, and was shocked when Don announced that Robin had dumped him. Now that Don finally showed an interest in settling down with one woman, the world seemed to be conspiring against him. He sighed and tried to concentrate on the article.

He was halfway through the article when the door to the garage opened. Amita entered the room, stretching. "Good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Amita. It looks like that lumpy old couch was not kind to you last night."

"No, it wasn't. I don't even remember falling asleep. Charlie and I were talking about the case, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up, a mass of aches and pains."

"What case are you working on, if I'm allowed to ask."

Amita laughed. "I don't think it's a big secret. We're trying to find out if there are any connections between the art thieves and the students who attacked Charlie. Charlie discovered one of the students was related to a woman who was involved in the first theft."

"Speaking of art thieves, Ben called. He said he got some tickets for the reception at the Armand Hammer Museum tonight and wanted to know if you and Charlie wanted to go along. He said Don and Liz are coming. Now I understand why Don would be interested."

"I'd like to go. I'm sure Charlie would like to go too." She glanced at the garage door. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get to the shower before Charlie uses up all the hot water."

"Go right ahead. Maybe the hot water will work out some of the kinks."

"I hope so," Amita said, hobbling up the stairs.

A few minutes later, Charlie stumbled into the room, rubbing his eyes. "Hi, Dad," he mumbled. "Where's Amita?"

"She's in the shower. There's coffee, if you'd like some while you're waiting."

"Sounds good. Remind me not to sleep on that couch again. I feel like I'm about a thousand years old."

Alan looked over his glasses at his younger son. "There are two perfectly good, perfectly empty beds upstairs."

"We hadn't planned on falling asleep out there. We were talking, and must have just fallen asleep."

"Talking," Alan scoffed. "I can't think of too many men who, being alone with a lovely young woman like Amita, would spend the night talking."

Charlie's cheeks reddened as he walked to the kitchen. When he reached the door, he stopped, and turned, grinning. "I didn't say we spent the whole night talking."

Before Alan could respond, Charlie was in the kitchen, leaving the door swinging behind him.

When Charlie returned, carefully holding a mug of steaming coffee, Alan said, "I almost forgot to tell you. Ben called. He said he's got tickets to the reception at the Hammer tonight and wanted to know if we'd like to come. I, of course, accepted, but I didn't know about you and Amita. She's already said she'd like to go."

Charlie grinned. "So if I don't go, you're going to take my girlfriend."

Alan shrugged. "May/December relationships are not entirely unheard of."

Charlie snorted into his coffee. "That's okay. I'd like to go. It'll give me a chance to case the joint, as they say."

"As who say? Movie gangsters from before you were born?"

The bathroom door opened, and Charlie stood. "Finally!" he murmured to Alan.

"That's what you get for letting her get up first," Alan replied.

Charlie headed for the stairs, only to be stopped by Amita. "Be quick. I'm not done in there yet. I just have to get some stuff from my car."

Charlie put his arm around her waist and drew her closer for a kiss. "Came prepared, like a good Girl Scout," he whispered.

"I've learned to expect the unexpected with you, Professor Eppes."

He pulled away, and patted her on the behind. "I'll be quick, Professor Ramanujan."

Once he saw his reflection, he decided a quick shower was in order. So, risking Amita's wrath, he dropped his clothes on the bathroom floor and turned on the shower. He had just finished soaping up when he realized his error. The water was starting to gradually get cooler. He yelped and rinsed quickly, shivering by the time he finished. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he picked up his clothes.

Amita stood in the hallway, overnight bag in her hand, leaning against the wall. She giggled when she saw him. "You're looking a little blue, Charlie." She ruffled his cold, wet hair. "Serves you right. I told you I wasn't finished."

Charlie shook his head, splattering her with cold water. "I'm definitely going to have to buy a bigger water heater."

Amita put her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. "What makes you think you're going to need it?"

He pulled her tighter against his cold, wet body. "I was hoping you'd be spending more time over here."

"Are you hitting on me?"

"Oh, I think it's gone way beyond that..."

"Charlie!" Alan's voice came from downstairs. "Are you planning on being down here in time for breakfast, or should I plan on lunch instead."

Charlie laughed and gave Amita a quick kiss. "I'll be right down. I just need to change my clothes." He pulled away and straightened his towel. "However, Amita has to put her makeup on and do her hair, so we might be looking at supper instead." He ducked as Amita punched him in the arm. "Ow! Dad! Amita hit me!"

"Well, you deserved it. Leave our guest alone and get your butt down here."

As everyone settled around the table and passed the coffee pot around, Alan said, "See, Charlie, you were exaggerating. It's still breakfast time. And Amita, you look lovely. Charlie normally takes twice as long to look half as good."

Charlie rolled his eyes as he spread cream cheese on an onion bagel. "I give up. I'm outnumbered!"

"So," Alan said, "you two think the art thieves are going to hit the Old Masters show at the Hammer?"

Charlie nodded and swallowed with a gulp. "Yeah. Ben and Maggie studied the collections of local museums and I came up with an algorithm to determine their next likely target. This show will be perfect. It has a lot of very expensive, very portable works."

"But the security must be very good."

Amita poured herself some orange juice and said, "It is, according to Maggie. But these thieves seem to like a challenge. They're very smart, and flashy."

Alan nodded. "And what could be flashier than walking out in broad daylight carrying a Da Vinci."

"Right," Charlie said. "But it's great that Ben was able to get tickets so we can try to figure out exactly what they'll go for, and how they're going to go for it."

"But to do that," Alan said, reaching for the strawberries, "You need to be a step or two ahead of them."

Charlie nodded. "At least. But with Ben and Maggie's knowledge of art and museums, Don and Liz's law enforcement expertise, and our logic, I think we'll be able to outsmart them."

Alan exchanged a worried glance with Amita.

"What?" Charlie asked. "Don't you think we can do it."

"Oh, I think you can do it, Charlie," Alan said softly. "I just get worried when things sound too simple."

"Don't worry. I've learned over the years not to be overconfident.."

Amita laughed. At Charlie's glare, she said, "I'm sorry, but I have never seen anybody more confident of his findings than you are."

"I admit to being confident, but have you ever known me to be overconfident?" Holding up a hand to forestall their comments, he continued, "I mean recently. Believe me, I remember the fiasco when the bank robbers shot Don, and I've learned my lesson."

"Okay," Alan said, "we believe you, Charlie. I invited Ben and Maggie over for supper, and I'm going to call Don in a bit and invite him and Liz. I thought we could ride to the museum together. Five of us should fit in Don's SUV, don't you think."

"If he has the windshield fixed by then," Charlie said. "Dad, pass the strawberries?"

Alan handed Charlie the strawberries. "I forgot all about that windshield of his. None of the rest of us has anything big enough..."

"Ben and Maggie have an SUV," Amita said. "I'm sure Ben will be happy to drive. If not, we'll just take a couple of cars."

"Sounds good to me," Alan said. "Say, Ben said he wouldn't accept any money for those tickets, but it said in the paper they're a hundred dollars each."

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "Really? That's a lot for an art show."

"Well," Amita said, "this is probably one of those ritzy receptions with hors d'oeuvre and VIPs."

"I hate those things," Charlie muttered. "I hope we don't have to dress up."

Alan glanced at Charlie's baggy jeans and blue pi tee shirt. "You could probably skip the tuxedo, but you might want to change into a suit before we go."

"Aw, darn. I was going to change into shorts and sandals."

Alan gave Amita a long-suffering glance. "Are you sure you want to get yourself involved with this guy?"

Amita took Charlie's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I like him just the way he is."

Alan chuckled as he started to clear the table. "They say love is blind."

"Not blind," Amita said, kissing Charlie's stubbly cheek. "The good things far outweigh the bad."

"Bad?" Charlie harrumphed. "You're saying you've managed to find something bad?" He stood and picked up their dishes and silverware to take to the kitchen.

Amita shrugged. "I just don't want you getting too sure of yourself."

"Moi? Never!"


	12. Chapter 12

When the table was cleared and the dishes done, Charlie said, "I'm going to get back to work. I want to be able to give Don the results when he gets here."

"What results are those, Charlie?" Alan asked as he picked up the phone.

"I should have a list of the connections between my disgruntled students and the art thefts. And, if all goes well, I may be able to fine-tune the possible targets in the Los Angeles area.

"Don will appreciate that." As Charlie and Amita returned to the garage, Alan called Don.

"Eppes."

"Don, I just wanted to invite you and Liz to dinner before we go to the Hammer."

"Thanks, Dad. That would be great. I'm getting my windshield replaced as we speak, so I can drive the whole gang over."

"Wonderful! We were wondering how we were going to manage the logistics." Alan glanced at the closed garage door and lowered his voice. "Have you talked to Charlie about his algorithms?"

"Not this morning. Why?"

"I hope he's not setting himself up to crash and burn like he did a couple of years ago. He sounds awfully sure that he's got what you need to solve this art theft case."

"Dad, Charlie has grown up a lot in the last couple of years. I'm sure everything will be okay. But I'll talk to him. Remember, he's been right more than he's been wrong."

"I know. He just seems so... so smug right now. I've just got a bad feeling about this. Probably just an overactive imagination."

"Listen, Dad, I trust your instincts as much as I trust Charlie's math. I'll keep an eye on him."

--

It had been a quiet afternoon. Except for a quick lunch break, Charlie and Amita were working in the garage. Alan finished the paper, took some time to put together a report for a client, and watched the Dodgers lose. He was just getting up the energy to start the preparations for supper when the front door opened. "Hello?" Don called.

"Donnie, Liz, welcome!"

Liz handed Alan a bottle of wine and gave him a quick hug. "Thanks for inviting us, Alan."

Alan glanced at the bottle approvingly. "Very nice. I thought I'd make a lasagne for dinner. This will go very nicely."

"Where's Chuck?" Don asked, glancing around the room. "Let me guess. In the garage with Amita?"

Alan chuckled. "At least he's not in the conservatory with Colonel Mustard."

Liz hesitated as Don headed toward the garage. "Is there anything I can do to help, Alan?"

"Everything's under control, Liz. Since my son is such a poor host, may I offer you something to drink?"

Liz laughed. "No, thanks. But thank you for being a wonderful host."

"Go, join the kids in the garage. Charlie was hoping to have the solution to your case by the time you two arrived."

"Oh, man, I hope he does. It'll save us a whole heck of a lot of work."

Charlie was at the blackboard, reading numbers to Amita, who sat, crosslegged with a laptop balanced on her knees. Don was standing beside Charlie, trying to make sense of something, anything, on the blackboard. He looked up and smiled at Liz when she entered.

"What?" Liz said with a grin, "The case isn't solved yet?"

Charlie gave her a withering look, then went back to passing data on to Amita.

Liz stood next to Don, and put her arm around his waist. "Do you understand any of this?"

"Nope," Don admitted. "But they do, and that's all that matters at this point. Let's have a seat," he indicated the lumpy couch. Liz raised her eyebrows, but sat, carefully adjusting her little black dress.

Amita glanced up and smiled. "Hi, Liz. Wow! I love that dress on you."

"Thanks. I wasn't sure what to wear, but basic black seemed safe enough."

Don said, "I get the hint. Next time we get invited to one of these fancy-schmantzy events, I'll ask what we should wear."

Liz gave him a peck on the cheek. "See, you are educable."

Charlie finished rattling off numbers, and came to look over Amita's shoulder. He glanced at his brother. "Amita found a partial listing of the items that are going to be at the show. Going with the assumption that they'd advertise the most valuable pieces, she found everything she could on each piece. We'll have Ben help us with relative prices, assuming that the thieves have a knowledge of art similar to Ben's."

Amita added, "And when we go tonight, we can get an idea of the layout of the exhibition. I'll print out a rough floor plan and we can mark locations of the most likely targets."

Liz said, "Won't that look a little suspicious?"

"We'll try to make it seem innocuous," Amita said. "I'm printing the plan on letter size pages. A lot of art students carry notebooks in museums and make notes about what they see. I thought I'd dress like a student, bring a backpack, which they'll make me leave outside the gallery, and carry a notebook full of scribbles and sketches."

Don chuckled, "All right, Amita, going undercover!"

She shrugged. "It seemed like the best way to collect the information we need without being accused of being an accessory before the fact. That is the correct term, isn't it? I watched a lot of cop shows growing up."

The garage door opened, and Alan ushered Ben and Maggie into the garage. "Apparently," he said, "this is where all the action is. I'll get supper started. Lasagne okay with everyone?" Accepting the murmur of approval, Alan left them to their work.

Don and Liz made room on the couch, and Charlie pulled over a papasan chair. "I should invest in some more seating for the garage if we're going to continue to meet out here."

"This is fine," Ben said, settling into the papasan chair and picking a piece of lint from the pantleg of his navy pinstripe suit. "Though I may need help getting out of this thing when we're finished."

Maggie sat next to Liz. "How've you been, Liz?"

"Great, thanks. How about you?"

Charlie and Amita had continued to study the screen of the laptop, pressing a few keys occasionally. He suddenly straightened and said, "There! That's it. Amita's got the program up and running. Now all we need is Ben's input."

"Input?" Ben asked. "About what?"

Charlie explained Amita's program to Ben, and he awkwardly got out of the papasan chair to join Charlie behind Amita. He pulled a folded paper out of the inside pocket of his suit coat. "I have a list of the items in the exhibit as well. It's probably the same as your list. I've looked it over, and I think I can give you what you need. You'll have to realize that it's an educated guess, since you'll never see prices listed for the most valuable items unless they've just been sold."

Charlie walked to the table and picked up a folder. "Don, you might find this interesting. I've put together some connections between my students and your art thieves. You can look it over while I get Ben started, and then we can discuss the implications of my results."

Don opened the folder. After a moment, he looked up at Charlie. "This is interesting. It looks like the students' complaints are strongly tied in with the thefts."

Charlie grinned. "Yeah. It's a relief to find out I'm not such a bad professor after all."

"Was there really any doubt?" Amita asked. "I've always enjoyed our study sessions."

Don laughed. "So that's what they're calling it these days."

While the program was running, Charlie sat beside Don and went through the connections between the students and the thieves. Besides the connection between Ellen Davis and Greg Spencer, Charlie had also discovered that Daniel Weimar had been a student of one Francis Agincourt.

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Don said, his brow furrowed.

Liz said, "Didn't Ed Davis say that Ellen worked with a Fred Agincourt?"

"That's it," Don said. "That's where I heard it before. Is Fred related to Francis?"

Charlie nodded. "Fred and Francis are twin brothers. Francis teaches high school, and Fred teaches elementary school."

"Right," Don said, "Fred ran some kind of after school group for kids and Ellen Davis helped with it. Did you find out anything more about the brothers? Like, was Francis involved in this after-school group?"

"No. I just remembered seeing the name in your notes. The same last name showed up in Dan's high school records. I just made a quick call to the school district to ask if the two Agincourts. Were related."

"Good work," Don said, nodding his approval. "So now we have two of your dissatisfied students connected with my art thieves. And if your program is right..." he paused, waiting for Charlie's reaction. He was rewarded with a scowl from his brother. "Okay, I'm sure your program will be right. Anyway, if all goes well, we'll catch them in the act on Tuesday and solve this thing."

"Charlie," Amita said, looking up from the laptop. "We've got results."

Charlie walked around behind Amita and gently massaged her shoulders as he studied the screen. "All right. Ben, it looks like our top three targets are a DaVinci drawing, a Durer print and a Michelangelo drawing."

"That makes sense. After tonight, Maggie should be able to give us an assessment of the layout of the gallery. Then we can give Don our best guess at which piece is most likely to be stolen."

"Guess?" Charlie scoffed. "I don't make guesses."

Alan stood in the doorway. "Of course you make guesses, Charlie. You've just given them a different name." Before Charlie could object, he added, "Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served."

As they adjourned to the dining room, Don put his arm around Charlie's shoulders. "Good job, Buddy. I'm going to have to check up on the Agincourt brothers. And I want you to be careful. Whoever we're dealing with, they're very dangerous." He ran his thumb along the bruise on Charlie's cheek.

"By Tuesday, this could all be over."

"You've still got to make it through Monday."

"I'll be careful. Hey, why don't you sit and I'll grab you a beer."

"I can get it myself."

"I know, but Dad's always after me about being a good host. Now sit your butt down and let me be the host."

Amita shook her head and turned to Liz. "Do they ever grow up?"

Liz grinned. "I don't think so."

"What would be the fun in that?" Charlie asked. "Now, Ben, ladies, what would you like to drink? We have a lovely red wine, a very nice white, water, coffee, tea, and, of course, beer."

Ben and Liz opted for red wine, while Amita and Maggie chose white wine. Charlie returned a few moments later with Don's beer and two bottles of wine. He handed Don the beer and opened the wine, pouring it for his guests.

"Thanks, Charlie," Maggie said. Turning to Alan, she smiled. "Alan, Charlie is a wonderful host. You've done a good job raising these two."

Charlie grinned at Maggie. "Thank you, Maggie. It's nice to see someone appreciates me around here."

"Poor baby," Don raised his beer in a toast. "Nobody ever appreciates you."

Charlie ruffled Don's hair and headed back into the kitchen with Alan. They returned, bearing lasagna, salad and garlic bread. "Ooh," Amita said, "that smells heavenly."

There were a few moments of silent eating, punctuated by murmurs of appreciation for Alan's cooking. Finally, Alan said, "So, Charlie tells me we're casing the joint tonight."

Don narrowed his eyes at his father. "Leave the casing to the professionals, Dad. You just enjoy the artwork, okay?"

"Oh, I fully intend to enjoy the artwork, Son. And I want to thank Ben and Maggie for treating us to the reception."

"You're more than welcome, Alan," Ben said. "You and your family have made us feel so welcome during our stay in Pasadena. We wanted to do something to return the favor."

"Maggie," Liz said, "I understand you're an expert in museum security?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way. I teach museum science, and part of museum science is museum security. I just hope I can give your team some helpful input."

"Well, either way," Liz said, "we're lucky to have you and Ben involved in this case." She noticed as Charlie raised his eyebrows at her. "Of course, it goes without saying that Charlie and Amita are always extremely valuable members of our team."

"Of course," Maggie said, raising her glass in Charlie's direction.

After the table was cleared and the dishes washed, Alan and Charlie went upstairs to change. Taking their cue from Ben's attire, they returned wearing black suits and white shirts. Charlie wore a purple silk tie, and Alan wore a paisley tie.

Liz whistled. "Whoa, you guys clean up nice."

Alan sketched a bow and took Liz's hand. "You're not so bad yourself."

Don playfully shouldered Alan out of the way. "Hey, find your own date."

"It's not my fault all the ladies here are spoken for."

Maggie looked Alan up and down, grinning. "Looking like that, Alan, you shouldn't have any trouble picking up a hot date at the museum tonight."

Alan wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I'll bet you say that to all the boys."

"No. Just the hot ones."

Amita bit her lip and she looked at Charlie. "I'm seriously rethinking my plan to dress as a student tonight."

Charlie touched her cheek. "No offense to the other ladies here, but you could dress in a burlap sack and you'd still be the most beautiful woman there tonight."

"All right. I'll stick with my original plan. Besides, we don't have time for me to run home and change."

Maggie reassured Amita, "This is an art event, and it's California, not back east. There will be plenty of people dressed much worse than you are. Nobody will even bat an eye when they see your clothes."

Ben added, "Maggie's right. She and I went to a 1000 a couple opening a month ago, and I was the only one wearing a suit."

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," Alan said, checking his watch. "We'd better get this show on the road."

The traffic was actually bearable on a Sunday evening. They pulled up to the gray and white striped marble building a few minutes before the reception was scheduled to begin. "Valet parking," Don said. "They're going whole hog tonight."

"It's a big event," Ben said. "They've brought together an amazing collection."

"And," Alan added, "when you pay this much for a ticket, you don't want the inconvenience of parking your own car."

After Don pocketed the claim ticket and turned his SUV over to the earnest young valet, they walked toward the museum.

A young couple in torn jeans and grubby tee shirts walked past them, hurrying toward the entrance. Amita, snuggled against Charlie, nodded toward them and whispered, "I don't feel so under dressed now."

"Good." Charlie gave her a squeeze. "You'll do just fine." He nuzzled her hair. "Have I told you lately you're hot?"

Amita laughed. "Not in the past five minutes."


	13. Chapter 13

As they entered the museum, they were greeted by the sounds of a string quartet. The VIPs in tuxedos and evening gowns were milling about, accepting hors d'oeuvre and drinks from waiters. Amita glanced down self-consciously at her clothes. Charlie noticed her discomfort and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You're still the most beautiful woman here," he whispered. "Would you like a drink?"

"Please," she said nervously.

Charlie snared a glass of white wine from a passing waiter and handed it to her. He glanced around, and seeing Ben and Maggie, led Amita toward them.

"Ben," he said, "what do we do now? Just mingle with the 'other half?'"

"For now," Ben said. "After about half an hour, someone, probably the director of the museum, will give a little talk, we'll applaud politely, the wealthy will pull out their wallets, and then they'll let us into the galleries."

Maggie leaned close to Charlie and Amita. "Most of the people you see dressed to the nines wouldn't know a Rembrandt from a Norman Rockwell."

"I beg to differ, my dear," Ben said, "Perhaps they wouldn't recognize the difference in style, but they will know the difference in their portfolios."

"True," Maggie replied, grinning. "And we all know that for some people, the bottom line is the bottom line."

"Now they," Ben glanced at a mixed group of professors in baggy tweeds and students in jeans, "are the ones who really know what's going on. Shall we go mill about in their vicinity?"

The professors were debating the usage of the term "Old Masters," and the students appeared to be running out of patience. A young man glanced at his watch. "Come on. Enough of the booze, fish eggs on crackers and boring music. We came here to see the exhibit, not the politicos."

Charlie glanced around the lobby, and caught sight of Alan, Don and Liz engaged in an intense conversation, eating said fish eggs and drinking said booze. His eyes widened in amazement as he caught sight of a familiar figure, bearing down on Alan like a battleship steaming through the waves. He nudged Amita. "Millie's here."

"You're kidding!" Amita followed his gaze and giggled. "You're not kidding. She must have smelled the wealthy donors all the way from Cal Sci."

Maggie said, "It doesn't look like she has her sights on donors at the moment. I think she's zeroing in on your father."

Charlie sighed. "I'm actually starting to get used to the idea of the two of them together."

"True," Amita said, "but I have yet to hear you use the word 'stepmother.'"

"Baby steps, Amita. Baby steps," Charlie said with a grin. He accepted a beer from a passing waiter. "Looks like I'd better get started," he said, hoisting his beer, "they're heading this way."

"Well," Ben said, "I happen to like Millie."

"Oh," Amita said, "Charlie likes her too. He's just having a hard time seeing her as a mother figure."

Ben chuckled. "I'll admit that motherly is the last adjective I'd apply to our Dr. Finch."

"Good evening, professors!" Millie's voice carried through the lobby. The tweedy professors stopped debating for a moment. When they realized Millie wasn't addressing them, they went back to their argument. "What a surprise! I expected to see Ben and Maggie, and possibly even Alan, but I never expected to see the rest of you. Especially our cute pair of g-men. Or is Liz a g-lady?" She nodded toward Don and Liz. She clapped her hand over her mouth, and with wide eyes, stage-whispered, "Oh no! Have I blown your cover?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and sighed. "No, Mildred. Ben and Maggie had tickets and invited us. There's no reason mathematicians and civil servants shouldn't go to a museum occasionally. I mean, you're here, aren't you?"

"Very true, professor."

"So," Amita said, "what brings you here tonight? Are you a fan of Old Masters?"

Millie lowered her voice. "Actually, I'm a fan of the newer masters – the wealthy donors looking for a nice tax deduction. This is one of their natural habitats." Her eyes lit on a gray-haired couple. "I'll see you later. I need to say hello to some dear friends."

After she left, Charlie chewed his lip nervously. "I'll be right back. I need to talk to Don."

Alan was amusing Liz with tales of Don's misdeeds as a child. Charlie tugged at Don's arm and whispered in his ear. "We need to talk."

Don gave Charlie a confused glance, then said to Liz and Alan, "I'll be right back. Charlie thinks I forgot to lock the car doors."

Don let Charlie lead him out the front door. "What's up, Buddy?"

"I don't know if it makes a difference, but Millie very loudly identified you and Liz as 'g-men.'"

Don pondered for a moment. "I think it'll be okay. There's no law against feds going to a nice reception. We'll just enjoy the art tonight, and discuss our conclusions after we leave. I'll let Liz and Dad know."

Charlie nodded. "I'll tell the others. I just don't want to mess things up. I think Dad's got me second guessing everything."

"Don't second guess yourself." Don chuckled. "Just use the force, Luke."

Charlie laughed. "Okay, Chewie. Let's get back inside. I need to grab one of those bacon wrapped scallops."

Don opened the door and let Charlie in ahead of him. "Only one? I've had half a dozen already."

"I'll start with one. It's a good thing we don't keep kosher."

"You got that right, Buddy," Don said, watching the circulating waiters, trying to find more scallops. "There!" He led the way to a waiter carrying a tray of bacon wrapped scallops on small plates. They each took a plate, thanked the waiter, and headed off in search of their companions.

Liz and Alan had drifted over to talk with Amita, Ben and Maggie. Charlie could hear Millie's voice in the distance. He looked around until he saw her, chatting with the gray haired couple she had spotted earlier. When he looked back, all but one of his scallops were gone, and the other three professors were chewing contentedly. He grinned wryly as he picked up the last scallop. "Would anybody like more?"

At that moment, the music stopped, and one of the tuxedoed gentlemen tapped on a microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?"

The murmuring slowly quieted, and the man at the microphone continued, "I would like to thank you all for coming this evening. My name is W. Jennings Stevenson, and I have the honor of directing this lovely museum. And tonight, it is my pleasure to share our most ambitious exhibition to date with you. After years of planning, we joined forces with some of the greatest museums in the world to assemble a traveling exhibit of Old Master drawings and prints. In a few minutes, you will be able to see 'up close and personal,' works by DaVinci, Raphael, Michelangelo, Durer, Rembrandt, and countless others. But, first, let me take a few moments and thank a few of our more generous donors..."

Charlie nudged Amita and whispered,"I can't believe he said 'countless others.' Of course you can count them..."

"Shhhh!" One of the nearby tweed-clad professors hissed.

Charlie narrowed his eyes at the professor, but decided not to belabor the point. Instead, he started scanning the crowd, looking for another trayful of the elusive scallops. Apparently, once the talking started, the eating was supposed to end. He sighed, and turned his attention back to W. Jennings Stevenson. The man was blathering on about donors, and Charlie amused himself by trying to remember if he'd ever heard a more pretentious name.

"..and now, let us go back to the days of the Old Masters." W. Jennings Stevenson stepped away from the microphone, and led the way to the gallery. The group of students tried to maneuver their way to the front of the line, but they were effectively blocked by museum staff. Somehow, the people who looked like they had made the largest donations ended up entering the gallery on the director's heels.

As their part of the crowd slowly crept toward the gallery, Don tapped Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie turned, opening his mouth to ask what Don wanted. Before he could speak, a bacon wrapped scallop miraculously appeared in his mouth.. "Enjoy. I was getting full anyway," Don said, pulling the empty toothpick back.

"Thanks," Charlie mumbled as he chewed.

"That's okay," Don said. "I noticed the sharks wiped out your scallops." He paused. "Do sharks eat scallops?"

"No idea," Charlie said, shrugging. "Too bad Larry's still in space. I'm sure he'd be able to tell you. In great detail."

"No, thanks."

They entered the first room of the exhibit. There was hardly an inch to spare in the place. "How are we going to see anything?" Liz asked,

"Follow me," Ben said, leading them through to the next room, and the room after that, until they reached a room occupied by only half a dozen viewers. "There. We're far from the madding crowds. We'll work our way to the end and by the time we double back, the rooms at the beginning will be emptying out."

"Very clever," Alan said. "I'll have to remember that little trick."

Maggie said, "It works every time there's a limited crowd. Tonight, we have a relatively small group, so the gallery isn't filled with a continuing flow of people. It also works on those timed entry shows."

"The ones where they let a group in every twenty minutes?" Alan asked.

"Right," Ben said. "They let a relatively small group in, and then stop the flow. The group is small enough that it doesn't completely fill the rooms. So, if they have allowed sufficient time between groups, the group will leave the first rooms before the next group is admitted."

"That makes sense," Charlie said. "It's an interesting dynamic. I could design an algorithm..."

"Charlie," Amita said, "your eyes are starting to glaze over. You're visualizing this as some kind of fluid dynamics problem, aren't you?"

"Okay, you got me." With difficulty, Charlie turned his mind from the images of flowing museum visitors and got back to the problem at hand. He glanced around the gallery. "So, Professors Cole, educate me on the fine art of fine art."

By the time they moved on to the next room, Charlie could tell a print from a drawing, and decided he really liked the effect of silverpoint. They had found the Durer and the Michelangelo. As they entered the last room, Ben gasped. "There it is," he whispered.

"What?" Alan asked.

"The Da Vinci. It's a preliminary sketch for a painting he did called 'The Adoration of the Magi.' This is only the second time the Uffizi has allowed this drawing to be exhibited in the United States. Security has always been a concern."

Don took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "This might just be what we're looking for."

The drawing was small – a little over six inches high by close to twelve inches wide. The background was a light brown. The lines appeared to be a brown ink, along with a few marks that looked like silverpoint. In a few places, a white lead paint had been used to add highlights.

"It's beautiful," Liz said softly. "It's hard to believe this is just a sketch."

Ben said, "This was actually the layout of the background. All of these lines radiating from this point are establishing the perspective for the whole painting." He glanced at Charlie. "And this point was established mathematically. Leonardo called it the divine proportion."

Charlie nodded. "We call it the golden ratio. 'a+b is to a as a is to b.'"

Liz shook her head. "I have no clue what that means. I just know that's one nice looking drawing."

"Well, Liz, if you consider the distance from the viewpoint..." Charlie began, but stopped when he saw Liz's panicked expression. "Never mind. Just enjoy the pretty pictures."

"That's what I plan on doing, professor." Liz grinned. "I'll let you look at it your way. You let me look at it my way." She turned to Ben. "It's an amazing sketch, but it is just a sketch. Why is it so valuable?"

"I believe your initial reaction is a key to its value. You were overwhelmed that so much beauty, so much skill, could be contained in what was to Leonardo a quick sketch. Then there's the opportunity to get a glimpse of the inner workings of Leonardo's mind. To us, the concept of perspective is something beginning art students understand. In Leonardo's day, perspective was a radical concept."

Maggie added, "It's definitely not the rarity that makes it valuable. Unlike Michelangelo, Leonardo did not destroy his notebooks and sketches. We have roughly seven thousand pages of Leonardo's notes."

"So what is it?" Alan asked.

Ben shrugged. "He was a genius."

Don grinned at Charlie. "I"m going to start saving your scrap paper then, Buddy."

"Granted, Charlie is a genius, and some day his notes on his mathematical discoveries will be worth a fortune," Ben said. "However, Leonardo was a genius in almost every field. The thought that one brain could contain so much information is mind boggling."

Amita studied the drawing for a few minutes. "It's called 'Adoration of the Magi.' Where are the magi?"

"He used this sketch to establish the background. This empty spot near the center is where Mary and Jesus would be sitting, surrounded by the crowd worshiping them. Sadly, Leonardo never finished the painting he was commissioned to do. He did quite a few sketches, and began working on the wooden panel, but he left Florence and moved to Milan. The monks eventually hired another artist to paint their altar piece for them. Leonardo's unfinished panel is in the Uffizi in Florence."

The crowd had begun to catch up to them, and they reluctantly moved away from the DaVinci and started to look at the other drawings. Millie entered with a local politician and his wife. When she saw Alan, she excused herself and joined him. "How are you enjoying the show?" She asked as she took his arm.

"It's absolutely beautiful! Have you seen the DaVinci yet?" he asked as he led her back toward the drawing.

"No, I haven't. Is this connected to those thefts..."

"No!" Alan said, cutting her off abruptly. "We are just here to see the Old Masters. Ben and Maggie invited us as a kind of thank you for our hospitality while they've been in Pasadena." He gave Millie a look, and, amazingly, she realized what he was trying to tell her.

"Well, that's very nice of them. They're such a sweet couple, aren't they? They've awakened out faculty and our students to the fact that art and science are very strongly interrelated."

"And speaking of the marriage of art and science, would you look at this wonderful DaVinci drawing? Ben was explaining DaVinci's use of the golden mean."

"Golden ratio," Millie corrected him. "I imagine Charlie was thrilled to hear that."

--

As Alan led Millie away, Don sighed, glancing surreptitiously around to see the reactions of the other visitors. A group of students were giggling as they watched Alan dragging Millie away, but everybody else seemed to be paying more attention to the art. Don turned Liz to look at a nearby print. He leaned close and whispered, "You think she blew it for us?"

Liz shook her head. "I don't think anyone noticed." She added, a little bit louder, "This one looks a lot like the Durer we saw earlier."

"I think you're right." Don checked his watch. "This is going to be over soon. Why don't we go have a look at the rooms we skipped on the way in?"

A few minutes later, they were joined by Ben and Maggie. Charlie and Amita lagged a room behind, keeping an eye out for Alan and Millie.

Once the show was over, Don led the way back to his SUV. While he was unlocking the doors, Millie approached him. "Don, I am so sorry. Alan explained what was going on back there. I didn't really think you were investigating anything, or I wouldn't have joked about it."

"That's okay. I don't think it'll cause any problems."

Millie sighed. "I've just got to learn to keep my big mouth shut." Catching sight of Charlie preparing to say something, she said, "Watch it, Professor. I'm still your boss."

Alan chuckled. "Once you learn, why don't you teach Charlie? Say, Millie, we're heading back to my... uh... Charlie's house. Would you care to join us?"

Millie glanced tentatively at the others, smiling when Don said, "I think that's a good idea. As long as we don't play poker."

--

Alan rode back with Millie. They arrived a few minutes after the others. Charlie was bringing in a bowl of popcorn, and had already served drinks when Alan and Millie walked into the house. Charlie grinned at them. "What took you two so long?"

Alan hung up his jacket, and took Millie's coat. "Millie doesn't speed like some people."

"Hey," Don said from the living room. "I don't speed. I just know how to handle traffic better than you two do."

Millie raised her eyebrows at Don. "And I don't have a siren and flashing light on my car."

Liz laughed. "Oh, he didn't use the lights and siren. I would have had to arrest him if he had. Of course, from where I was sitting, I couldn't see the speedometer, so I can't vouch for him in that department."

"So, Don," Millie said, "I really am sorry if I caused any problems at the museum."

"I honestly don't think you did. If I'd known you were going to be there, I would have filled you in on what we're doing. Have a seat and I'll catch you up. We can always use another analytical mind."

When Millie and Alan had gotten settled, Don began, "Our band of professors here determined that the show at the Armand Hammer Museum was the most likely to be hit by the robbers. And they determined that three of the items in the show were the most likely targets: a Durer print, a Michelangelo drawing, and the Da Vinci drawing."

"My money's on the Da Vinci," Millie said.

Liz glanced at Charlie. "And she did that without a computer. I'm thinking it'll be cheaper for Don to hire Millie as a consultant."

"But our program..." Charlie began.

"I'm kidding, Charlie," Liz said. "I've gotta stop doing this. You're way too easy a target."

Charlie nodded, staring off into space for a moment, then turned to Maggie. "The Da Vinci is a pretty obvious target. But is it an easy target? What did you see as far as security was concerned?"

"Well, it's never good to make security too obvious, but I did recognize a couple of things. There's a motion detector hanging over it, made to look like a spotlight. If you step within the range of the detector, it'll make a chirping sound to warn you, and send a signal to the guards. I tried to get a look at how it was fastened, but I couldn't do it without attracting attention. I doubt if it's just hanging from a hook. The frame is probably bolted to the wall somehow. There's probably a motion detector attached to the frame as well."

"Right," Ben nodded. "And I imagine there will be at least one guard whose sole function is to watch the Leonardo without being obvious about it."

"All right," Don said, "so our thieves like a challenge. This one sounds right up their alley. How is the drawing mounted in the frame? Could a thief pull the frame apart?"

Maggie glanced at Ben. "What do you think?"

"It's possible. I didn't notice any hardware on the frame, so it's possible it could be pulled apart. And the glass is most likely Plexiglas, so there's no danger of the glass shattering and damaging the drawing. Are you planning on contacting the museum?"

Don nodded. "Yeah. I'm seeing the director tomorrow. I just wanted to know what I was talking about before I saw him."

"Would you like us to come with you?" Ben asked.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Don said. "Do you think they'll be likely to strike on opening day?"

"No idea," Maggie said. "According to Ticketmaster, this week and next week are already sold out, so the size of the crowds should be about the same. If they want media attention, opening day would be the best. I imagine every local TV station will have a live feed, unless something more exciting happens."

"So we'll assume they're going to show up on opening day. It can't hurt."

Alan said, "And you're going to have your people there until they make their move?"

"We're going to have to," Don said. "We also can't dismiss the possibility that they're going to hit another museum."

"You're going to be spread pretty thin if they don't act quickly."

"You got that right," Don said, taking a long sip of beer. "I am not looking forward to facing the bean counters on this one. I'm either gonna be the hero or the goat on this one."

"Baaah," Charlie said, grinning.

"Hey, if you're wrong on this one, it's coming out of your fee. Didn't you read the small print?"


	14. Chapter 14

Monday seemed to drag. Charlie tried calling Don before class, but the call went straight to voice mail. "Hey, Don," he said after the beep, "it's me. I was wondering how everything was going. Have you met with the director yet? Are we still on for tomorrow? Okay. Call me when you get a chance." Charlie could not keep his mind on his lectures, resulting in several embarrassing moments when his underclassmen gleefully corrected their genius professor. When his classes mercifully ended, he took out his cell phone and checked his messages. Nothing from Don. No word yet on how the meeting with W. Jennings Stevenson had gone. No word yet on what the plan was for tomorrow's opening.

He dialed Don's number, and the call went straight to voice mail. Again.

Charlie was pacing in front of a blackboard, writing and erasing impatiently when Amita entered.

She came up behind him and put a gentle hand on his back. "Charlie," she said softly, "calm down."

Charlie whirled to face her. His surprised expression quickly changed to one of embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?"

"Yeah, it is. No word from Don yet?"

"Not yet." He sat on the edge of his desk. "I left him a couple of messages, asking if I could go along with them tomorrow. But his phone still goes straight to voice mail. He must be in meetings" He rubbed his face. "I made stupid mistakes in front of my classes..."

Amita grinned and nodded. "I heard all about it. I'm sure it's all over campus by now. Why are you so nervous? You've been working on cases with your brother for, what, three years now?"

"I know. I'm not really nervous. I'm excited. I mean, this case shouldn't be dangerous, and I'd like to be involved in it. You know, Don and his team get to do all the exciting stuff while we do this," he waved a hand at the blackboard.

Amita put her arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "Well, I find this very exciting. I mean, you've taken math to a whole new level. You're creating applications that nobody else has ever thought of."

Charlie shrugged. "Of course, but just once I'd like to be in the field. Maybe even wearing a bullet proof vest. Maybe then..."

"What?"

"Maybe then Don's team wouldn't look at me like I was some freak of nature. Maybe I'd be one of them."

"Oh, Charlie, you are one of them."

Charlie sighed and shook his head. "You've seen how Liz reacts when I start talking. Colby used to be as bad, but he's finally gotten better. I even catch Don rolling his eyes sometimes. My own brother."

"Isn't that what brothers are for? I've seen you pick on him too."

Charlie smiled. "You're right, of course." He glanced at his watch.

"Stop that!" Amita playfully slapped his hand. "You're as bad as your brother." She led him to the blackboard. "So what are you working on?"

They were working on Charlie's calculations when Don knocked on the door frame. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"

"Not much, Bro. What's going on with you? Did you get my voice mail?"

"Yeah. Unlike some people, I actually check my messages on a regular basis."

Charlie pulled out his phone and glanced guiltily at the screen. "I check my messages."

"Right. Anyway, Stevenson is cooperating fully. We're going to have two agents in each room, undercover. David, Colby and I will be in the Da Vinci room." He paused as Charlie and Amita exchanged glances. "What?"

"I ... I was wondering if I could come along too," Charlie said.

Don hesitated, chewing on his lower lip. "Not a good idea, Buddy."

"Why?" Charlie said softly. "They're not violent criminals..."

"Charlie, remember they killed someone. And they tasered Ben. I can't risk having any civilians involved."

"You worried about liability?"

"That, and I don't want to have any distractions."

Charlie bristled. "So, I'm a distraction?"

Don put his arm around Charlie's shoulders. "Worrying about you would be a distraction."

Charlie pursed his lips and finally nodded. "Okay, I can accept that."

"Hey, why don't you come to the office and listen in. We'll all be miked. You can hear everything as it goes down."

"Okay," Charlie said, grinning, "That could work. It's almost like being there – without the risk of getting tasered."

"On second thought, it might be interesting to see you getting tasered." Don reached over and ruffled Charlie's hair. "I wonder if it would straighten out those curls."

Amita gasped. "Not the curls!"

--

The museum was scheduled to open at ten. At quarter of, a group of undercover FBI agents stood at the head of the line, holding their timed tickets for the Old Masters show. Downtown at the FBI office, Charlie and Amita sat at a console, listening to the agents' chatter. "You know," Charlie said, this would be so much better if they had cameras."

The technician sitting next to Charlie chuckled. "They've been working on it, but it's too expensive."

Charlie turned to the technician, a young Asian-American man. "You know, we've worked together – how many times now? -- and I don't know your name."

"Tom," he said, shaking hands with Charlie. "Tom Chang."

"Nice to meet you, Tom. Can Don hear us?"

"Not unless you push the button on the microphone in front of you. But don't be surprised if he doesn't answer you. He's not going to want to look suspicious, or crazy."

Don's voice crackled over the speakers. "All right. They're opening the doors. We were lucky to get tickets for the first showing, weren't we?"

"Yeah," Liz answered. "How long ago did you have to order them?"

"Months and months," Don sighed. "Okay, here we go."

They continued chatting as they walked through the lobby. Suddenly, Colby's voice came across. "Don? Look back."

"What?... What the heck?... "

Tom pushed the button and leaned toward the microphone. "What is it, Agent Eppes?"

"Wheelchairs. There's gotta be at least, what, thirty or forty people in line behind us pushing kids in wheelchairs. Get ahold of Stevenson and find out what the hell is going on."

--

"Agent Eppes," Tom said a few minutes later. "You're not going to believe this. Mr. Stevenson said that a benefactor, who wishes to remain anonymous, purchased a hundred tickets for kids in wheelchairs and their guests."

"Does Stevenson know who this donor is?" Don hissed.

"He wouldn't tell me."

"Is he in his office?"

"He said he'd come down to see you. He knows you're undercover, so he said he'd think of something."

A few minutes later, W. Jennings Stevenson approached Don. "Peter?" He said, "I understand you wanted to interview me for your newsletter. Is now a good time?"

"Jennings," Don said, grinning and shaking hands with the director, "I thought you'd forgotten about me. Now would be wonderful."

"Great. There's an office over here we can use," Stevenson led Don to a door and unlocked it. "Here we go."

Once they were inside, Don chuckled. "A janitor's closet?"

Stevenson shrugged. "It was nearby and empty. Now what's the problem with the wheelchairs?"

"It may not be a problem. It may just be a coincidence. But I've learned to be suspicious of coincidences. The two robberies were committed by people pushing children in wheelchairs."

"I'm aware of that, of course. But this donor is someone I know and trust."

"Who is the donor?"

"He wanted to remain anonymous..."

"I am not going to release the information. I just need to know his name as part of my investigation. Would you rather I close the museum down until I can get a warrant?"

"You wouldn't!" Stevenson looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel.

"Try me," Don said softly.

Stevenson sighed dramatically. "His name is Francis Agincourt."

"Crap," Don groaned. Looking at Stevenson's confused expression, he said, "We have reason to believe Francis and/or his brother Fred are involved in this theft ring."

"What are you going to do? We can't turn the children away. That would be a public relations nightmare." Stevenson ran his hand through his hair.

"What kind of nightmare would it be if they got away with the DaVinci?"

"Don?" Charlie held the button and spoke into the microphone.

Don put his hand to his ear and signaled Stevenson to wait, "Yeah, Charlie?"

"I don't think you have to turn anybody away. You know which of the artworks they're most likely to go after. Just stick with your original plan. Watch the artworks. The visitors are irrelevant."

Don nodded and turned back to Stevenson. "Okay. We're going to stick with the original plan. Our experts have determined which artworks the thieves are most likely to go after, and we're going to concentrate on them. I just wish you'd told me about Francis Agincourt earlier."

"I'm sorry," Stevenson said. "Our relations with our donors are very important."

"I understand. Listen, I've got to get back to work. Is there anything else I should know?"

Stevenson drew himself to his full height and looked down his nose at Don. "Of course not, Agent." He opened the door, glanced to make sure they weren't being observed, and led the way back to the lobby.

When they reached the line, Don shook Stevenson's hand. "Thanks for the interview. Sorry we couldn't get together earlier."

"No problem. I'll look forward to seeing your article." Stevenson turned and left.

Don stifled a grin as he heard Charlie's voice in his ear, "What a pompous ass." Colby, standing in front of Don in the line, chuckled and tried to cover it with a cough.

Once they were in the galleries, the team wandered around until they reached their places. Don glanced around and said softly, "Everybody set?"

--

As Charlie listened to the agents' quiet conversations, he turned to Amita. "This is great. It's almost like being there."

Amita nodded. "But without the risk of getting tasered. Now we'll see how accurate your predictions are."

Charlie feigned indignation. "You dare to question me? Seriously, between Ben and Maggie's input and my calculations, I think we'll have the perpetrators by this afternoon."

"As a great man once said, 'Oh, to be young and brilliant and full of yourself.'"

Charlie smiled wistfully. "Larry. I wish he were back on earth. I miss him."

"He'll be back soon enough. I can't wait to hear about his experience."

"Me either." Charlie checked his watch.

Tom looked up from the console. "Professor, do you have any idea when they're going to make their move?"

"Not really. From what I understand of ticket sales, the show is sold out for the next few weeks, so, realistically, they might not hit today. Though we're all hoping it will be today. Don says this is a pretty expensive operation."

"Any idea what their distraction will be?"

"We may have already seen it. They might assume that the extra wheelchairs will distract the security guards. But they won't affect our plan."

Tom grinned. "Sounds like you have everything under control."

--

As the morning turned into afternoon, Charlie began to pace. "They may have assumed that we would be out in force today. They might not be planning to hit today after all."

"But the extra wheelchairs..." Amita said.

Charlie sat back down and spoke into the mike. "Don? Are there still a lot of wheelchairs there?"

"Yeah," Don whispered. "Why?"

"I was beginning to wonder if they were planning on hitting another day instead. But if the wheelchairs are there..."

"Excuse me," Don said loudly. "Miss, please step back from the art work."

--

Don's eyes hadn't left the DaVinci while Charlie was speaking. Now a young woman, pushing a girl in a wheelchair, had stepped forward and grabbed the frame, giving it a twist.

"FBI!" Don drew his weapon and trained it on the woman. "Drop the painting and step back."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. The girl in the wheelchair was turning to face him.

"Freeze!" he yelled. "Everybody just freeze."

David and Colby drew their weapons and stood, watching the rest of the crowd. A elderly lady screamed, and they both turned to face her.

Don took a step toward the young woman, who had not released the frame. "Let go of the painting," he said, staring into her eyes. "I will shoot."

She smiled.

The girl in the wheelchair lifted a gun and fired before Don could react. The first shot struck just below the vest he was wearing under his shirt. He cried out in pain, and shifted his aim, firing at the girl as the second shot struck his vest, pounding his ribs. Groaning, Don doubled over and dropped to the floor.

--

In the FBI office, Charlie grabbed the microphone. "Don! Don! Oh my God, what's happening? Don!"

Tom wrestled the microphone away from Charlie. "Granger, Sinclair. Report!"

Amita squeezed Charlie's hand as Colby's voice filled the room. "Don's down. Two gunshot wounds."

"Don," David was saying. "Don, Man, can you hear me? It's okay. Don't try to move. I got you. Let me see." Charlie clung to Amita as Don gasped. David continued, "Okay, gunshot wound to the lower abdomen. I'm applying pressure to stop the bleeding... It's okay, Don. Hang in there, Man... Okay, second shot hit the vest. Where are the paramedics? We need them here NOW!"


	15. Chapter 15

Don heard David talking to him. He couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. The pain was nearly overwhelming.

He felt someone taking his hand. Liz's voice broke through the haze. "Don!"

"Liz,... go back. ... The Michelangelo..." Don gasped. "Everybody hold your positions."

Liz squeezed his hand. "Don, I'm sorry." She pushed herself to her feet and ran from the room.

David said, "What are you thinking, Don?"

"The distraction... this... this was the distraction."

"Oh, crap!" David said, "Okay, everyone to your positions and report. Is anything missing? Don, hang in there."

Don groaned. "I'm trying..."

The reports started to come in. Don tried to keep quiet, listening to the voices in his earpiece. Finally, the report he dreaded came through. Liz's voice came loud and clear, "The Michelangelo is gone. Are the doors secured?"

Don moaned. "Damn it. We blew it. I ... I blew it."

"Don," David said, "you didn't blow anything. We'll get 'em. Just rest. We've got things under control. Hey, Charlie and Ben had it right, didn't they?"

"Charlie? Oh, God, Charlie!" Don's eyes opened, and he reached for his earpiece. "Charlie? You there?"

"Just a minute," Tom Yang's voice came through the earpiece. "He's here. Professor! Your brother wants to talk to you."

Charlie's shaky voice came on the line. "Don?"

Don took a deep breath and grimaced. He squeezed David's hand and struggled to hold his voice steady. "Buddy? Listen... Don't... don't freak out, okay? I'm... I'm going to be fine."

"Don," Charlie said softly, "remember what I said in Bradford's office? I'm a lot stronger than people think. You just take care of yourself, Bro."

Don bit his lip and nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

"Charlie?" David said, "The paramedics are here. I'm going to take Don's earpiece and mike off now, okay?"

"Okay. Just give me a minute. Don?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you."

"Love you too, Buddy... See you later." Don closed his eyes.

David removed the microphone and earpiece. "Okay, Don. I'm going to get out of the way and let the paramedics do their job, okay?" He squeezed Don's shoulder and moved out of the way.

Don nodded. "Mmmkay." Someone was pulling at his clothes, moving him, and it hurt. Oh, God, it hurt. He tried to fight, to make them stop, but he had no energy left. Pain. Nothing but pain.

--

Charlie gazed numbly around the room. Where'd all the people come from? It seemed like every person needed to get to where he was sitting. He released the microphone button, stepped back away from the desk and leaned against Amita. She put her arm on his shoulder and held him close. "He'll be okay, Charlie. He'll be fine."

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "I hope you're right. I should have known. Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. They knew we were on to them, and they adapted. And I was too stupid to adapt to them."

"No, Charlie. There's no way you could have guessed what they were going to do."

"This is the second time that Don's been shot because I just didn't realize..."

"Professor," Tom said, "They're taking him to Huntington."

"Thanks," Charlie said, pulling his cell phone out. "I'm going to call Dad." He looked forlornly at Amita. "What am I going to tell him?"

"Just tell him Don's hurt and we're on the way to take him to see him."

Charlie nodded and dialed.

"Hello?" Alan's voice answered on the first ring.

"Dad. I .. uh..."

"Charlie? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Charlie took a deep breath and said, "Don's been shot. They're taking him to Huntington."

"Oh my God. What happened?"

"The thieves. They had guns this time. Listen, Amita and I are coming to pick you up." He waved to Tom and headed for the elevator.

"Where are you?" Alan asked.

"At the FBI. We're leaving now."

--

Charlie pulled in to the driveway, not really sure how he'd gotten there. Alan was pacing by the front door, waiting, white-faced. When the car stopped, Amita got out of the front passenger's seat and climbed into the back. Alan sat, closed the door and put his seatbelt on. "Okay," he said, "Go!"

They arrived at Huntington in record time. Charlie dropped Alan and Amita off at the emergency entrance and went in search of a parking spot. He rushed into the waiting room, looking frantically for his father and Amita. He saw them, sitting right in front of the double doors that led to the emergency department. "Is he here yet?" he asked as he crossed the waiting room.

"Shhh," Alan chided his son. "Yes, he's here. Someone will be out to talk to us after they've finished examining him."

Charlie dropped into the seat next to his father. "Dad, I'm so sorry. I could have prevented this..."

"The hell you could have," Alan said. "Listen, I know your math is good, but it can't perform miracles. And it can't predict the actions of sociopaths."

"But it should be able to..."

"Charlie, drop it and tell me what happened. Did they tell you how it happened?"

Charlie gnawed his lip and blinked back tears. "We heard it. We were listening to the agents' feed in the FBI office."

"You heard it?" Alan whispered. "My God, Charlie." He took Charlie's hand in both of his. "I am so sorry, Son."

Charlie took several deep breaths to collect himself. He knew his father was desperate to know what happened, but he couldn't bring himself to ask his son to relive the experience. He squeezed his father's hand and, staring in front of him, recounted the events step by step. When he finished, he lifted his eyes and met his father's gaze. "I should have tried to figure out what they were going to do. I should have known they would change their actions because they knew we were watching them."

"Charlie," Alan said softly, "don't beat yourself up. Like I said before, you're dealing with sociopaths. They're unpredictable, and even your math can't control everything."

A sad smile flickered across Charlie's lips. "Remember when Don was shot before? Trying to stop those bank robbers?" When Alan nodded, Charlie continued, "Well, Larry tried to straighten me out. He told me not to confuse the ability to predict with the ability to control."

Alan nodded. "I remember."

"I fell into that same trap this time. I was so sure..." The double doors opened, and all three of them stared at the man who came through the doors.

"Eppes?"

The three stood and all said, "Yes."

"I'm Dr. Torre. They're prepping Don for surgery, so I figured I'd take a minute to let you know what's going on." He pulled a chair over and sat in front of them. "First, let me say that Don is very lucky."

"Lucky?" Charlie snorted.

"Lucky," Dr. Torre said, gazing into Charlie's eyes. "The gun was a small caliber. No vital organs or blood vessels were damaged. He was wearing a vest, which stopped the second bullet with minimal damage to his ribs. He received treatment almost immediately. He's lucky."

"Okay," Charlie murmured. "I'm sorry."

Dr. Torre nodded. "The bullet penetrated just below his waist, slightly right of center. Because of that, the only organ involved was the small intestine. And God has given us an awful lot of spare small intestine. There's a great risk of infection whenever the intestine is damaged. But it's relatively easy to patch."

"So the prognosis is good?" Alan asked, hopefully.

"The prognosis is excellent, Mr. Eppes. He's not going to be chasing bad guys any time soon, but he's going to be good as new in a couple of months."

"And short term?" Charlie asked.

"Short term, I'd like to keep him pretty much knocked out for a couple of days. This kind of injury is very painful. We'll keep him loaded with antibiotics to eliminate any risk of infection. And that's pretty much it. I should get back. Any questions before I go?"

Charlie, Alan and Amita shook their heads. Charlie said, "Thank you, Doctor. I apologize for my attitude earlier."

"No need to apologize, Son. Don's in good hands right now. It'll be at least an hour before he's out of surgery. Why don't the three of you go have a cup of coffee, buy a paper? Try to relax?"

"Relax?" Alan said, smiling sadly. "Would you relax if it were your son?"

Dr. Torre stood. "No way. Just do the best you can."

--

David Sinclair stood, wiping Don's blood from his hands as he watched the paramedics wheel Don from the room. Everything in him wanted to follow the ambulance to the hospital. But with Don out of commission and Megan on some kind of top secret assignment, David was the senior agent. He took a deep breath and turned to look at the little girl who had just shot his boss. The girl had been handcuffed to her wheelchair. The woman who had tried to take the DaVinci stood beside her, hands cuffed behind her back.

Colby stood, guarding the two, looking like he'd rather be beating a confession out of them. David knew how he felt. He approached the girl and said, "What's your name?"

The girl, who appeared to be about thirteen, pursed her lips. "I want a lawyer."

David glanced at Colby, who said, "I read her her rights. She has refused to speak, except to say that the gun wasn't supposed to have bullets in it."

David turned his attention back to the girl. "Is that right? What was supposed to happen?"

The girl glanced at the woman. "She was supposed to take the drawing, and I was supposed to stun anyone who tried to stop her. Just like..."

"Shut up," the woman said. Turning to David, she said, "We are BOTH exercising our right to remain silent until we've talked to our lawyer. You can't ask her any more questions."

"All right," David said with a sigh. "Let's get them downtown." He noticed the spectators. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to take statements from all of you. You might as well relax and have a look at the art work while you're here. Just don't touch anything." He stopped, and looked at Colby. "I have to admit I wasn't paying attention after Don got shot, but did you hear any alarms going off?"

Colby pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Okay, that's one more thing to wonder about. I'm going to find someplace private where I can call the office and make arrangements. You need a hand in here?"

"It wouldn't hurt." Colby met David's gaze. "You okay?"

David nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah. Have them notify us when they hear anything about Don's condition, okay?"

David smiled. "I was planning on that. I'll send Johnson in to keep you company." The smile left his face as he glanced at the woman and girl. "You'd better hope he makes it," he said softly.

--

Liz and her partner, Lou Woese, had secured their room. Lou had remained after Liz had run to Don's side, but his back was turned when the drawing was stolen. Liz had apologized profusely to Lou, but knew she was in serious trouble for leaving her post. She watched as Don was wheeled through the room, biting her lip to keep from crying. Damn, she thought, I knew dating another agent was a big mistake. Now it just might cost me the career I've worked so hard to build.

When David came through a few minutes later, she said, "David. May I see you for a minute?"

He turned, struggling to control the array of emotions. "Not right now, Liz. I'll catch you on my way back."

She nodded. "Okay. Listen, I'm sorry..."

"Don't worry about what you can't change. We've all got to keep our focus on the case right now." His expression softened. "Don's gonna be okay."

--

Alan, Charlie and Amita had taken Dr. Torre's advice and gone for coffee. They had stopped in the gift shop on the way back to the waiting room. Now they sat, Charlie reading a Smithsonian Magazine, Amita reading Scientific American, and Alan staring at a sudoku book. Every few minutes, at least one of them would glance at the time, and sigh.

A little over an hour after Dr. Torre had left, he returned, smiling broadly. Alan started to stand, but Dr. Torre said, "Sit. He's fine." Dr. Torre pulled a chair over and sat. "The surgery was a complete success."

For the first time, Alan noticed the fatigue on the doctor's face. He reached out and grasped the doctor's hand. "Thank you. Dare I ask how you're doing?"

"I'm okay, thanks. I'm just finishing up a double shift today. But, I have a feeling you're more interested in your son's health than in mine – and rightfully so. When the intestine is damaged, waste material fills the abdomen. We were able to flush the area, but, as I said earlier, we'll be giving him hefty doses of antibiotics. We removed a few inches of damaged intestine..." He paused when Alan gasped. "Don't worry. That's normal. As I said, God has given us a lot of spare intestine. We patched a few nicks and tears, and I'm satisfied that we repaired all the damage."

"When can we see him?" Alan asked.

"He's in recovery now, but I'm hoping to move him into ICU in about an hour. You'll be able to see him, but, of course, he will be unconscious. By tonight we should have him in a regular room, and then you'll be able to stay with him as long as you want. Because he's in law enforcement, he won't have a roommate. But I recommend you don't overtax yourselves. We send patients home pretty quickly these days, and Don will need your help when he gets home."

"In what way?" Charlie asked.

"Well, he'll be sore. Really sore. He'll have trouble getting up and around, but it's important that he spends as much time sitting and walking as possible. His diet will be restricted at first. No spicy or greasy foods, of course."

Charlie grinned, "And no beer?"

Dr. Torre laughed. "Definitely no beer. The nursing staff will go over all the instructions with you before we kick him out of here." Dr. Torre stretched and stood. "Any other questions?"

Alan glanced at Charlie, who shook his head. "No, I think we're good. Should we wait here?"

"Definitely. I'll tell the nurse you'll be waiting to see Don. She'll come and get you when they transfer him."

Alan shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you so much, Dr. Torre. And get some sleep."

The doctor patted Alan's hand. "I'd suggest you do the same, but it would be a waste of breath. I'll see you tomorrow."

After the doctor left, Charlie touched Amita's cheek. "You don't have to hang around if you don't want to."

"Don't be silly," she reached up and pulled his hand to her lips and gave it a quick kiss. "I want to stay here."

"Thanks," he said, pulling our his cell phone. "I'd better call Millie and let her know what's going on."

"Don't forget to call Don's office. They're going to want to know the good news."

Charlie nodded as he waited for Millie to answer. "It's her voicemail," he whispered. "Millie, this is Charlie. Don was shot, and Amita and I are at the hospital with Dad. It looks like he'll be okay, but would you have someone post notices canceling our classes for the rest of the day. And tomorrow," he glanced at Amita, who nodded, "could you find someone to cover our classes tomorrow too? Thanks. I'll keep you posted."

After he hung up, he said, "Dad? Who should I call at Don's office? Megan's still on assignment."

Alan looked up from his puzzle. "Who's senior after Don and Megan?"

"I guess it would be David." He dialed the FBI office number. "Hello, this is Charles Eppes. Could you transfer me to David Sinclair's cell phone number? I have important information for him."

In a few minutes, David said, "Charlie? How's Don?"

Charlie smiled. "He's going to be fine, David. No major organs were damaged. There was some damage to his small intestine, but he's going to be fine."

He could hear David's smile in his voice, "That's great news, Charlie. I'll pass the word on to Colby and Liz and the rest of the team. Thanks."

"You're welcome. How's the investigation going?"

"It's early yet, and we've got a heck of a lot of witnesses to interview."

"Any sign of the Michelangelo?"

David sighed. "No. Somehow they got it out of here. Or concealed it somewhere in the building."

"You need any help?"

David laughed. "Always. But you need to stay with your dad. How's Alan holding up, anyway?"

"Good, now that we've heard the good news from the doctor. Listen, I'll have my cell phone with me. Call me if you come up with anything I can help you with. I'll pick up my laptop, and I can work from here."

"Charlie, you don't have to..."

"Yeah, I do. They shot my brother. I need to do this."


	16. Chapter 16

A few minutes later, Charlie's cell phone rang. He glanced at the display and answered it, "Hello, Millie."

"Charlie! I just got your message. Which hospital?"

"Huntington. We're still in the ER waiting room. Don's in recovery now, but they'll be moving him to the ICU for a few hours, and then to a room."

"Any word on how he's doing? I mean since your message."

"Nothing new. We had just talked to the doctor before I called you. It does sound encouraging, though."

"That's good. Listen, I can't come right away, but how about if I call you when I'm ready to leave and you can let me know where I can find you. How's Alan handling this?"

Charlie glanced at his father. "Dad's handling it just fine, Millie."

"I'll stop by after I finish up here. Is there anything I can bring?"

"I can't think of anything, but I'll call you if I do. Thank you."

"Charlie, how are you holding up?"

A smile crossed Charlie's lips. "I'm doing okay, thanks."

"You're not blaming yourself, are you?"

Charlie was startled. "Whatever makes you think that?"

"I know you, Professor Eppes. You take your math and its repercussions personally."

Charlie sighed. "That's true." He glanced at Amita and his father and lowered his voice before he continued, "And I do take some responsibility for what happened. I didn't account for all the variables..."

"Charlie. Don't do you dare fall into that trap. Granted, you're a genius. But not even geniuses can know everything. It's too bad Larry isn't here to talk some sense into you."

Charlie laughed. "It's not often I hear 'Larry' and "talk sense' in the same sentence."

"All right. It's good to hear you laugh. Don't brood, young man. That's the worst thing you can do for your brother. Focus on him, not on yourself."

Charlie's mouth dropped open. "Are you saying I'm being self-centered?"

Millie laughed. "I've got to go. But, if the shoe fits..." she hung up, preventing him from arguing further with her.

Charlie flipped the phone shut and scowled at it, considering throwing it across the room. He looked up and saw Alan and Amita staring at him.

"What was that all about?" Amita said.

Charlie shook his head and put his phone in his pocket. "Nothing. Just Millie being Millie."

Alan raised his eyebrows as he looked over the top of his reading glasses at his younger son. "Sometimes you need someone who will be brutally honest with you."

Amita tried to hide a smile, but Charlie saw her. "What?" he asked.

"I just remember your attempt to be brutally honest with Larry when you were convinced he would never go into space."

Charlie felt his face heating up. "Okay, so I was wrong then."

Alan shook his head. "You weren't just wrong. You were thinking of what was best for you, and not what was important to your best friend."

Charlie rubbed his face. "You're right," he said softly. "You think I'm doing the same thing now. Millie accused me of focusing on myself, not on Don." He gave his father a pleading look. "I'm not, am I?"

Alan looked down. "You'll have to answer that one for yourself. Only you know what's in your mind, what's in your heart."

--

After David finished with Charlie, he called the office. Once he had made all the arrangements, he walked back into the galleries. When he reached Liz, he took her aside. "I just got off the phone with Charlie. Don's going to be okay. He had some damage to his small intestine, but no major organ damage. He's going to be fine."

Liz gave David a shaky smile and blinked away the tears that were gathering in her eyes. "That's great! Oh, David, that is wonderful."

He reached up and squeezed her shoulder. "I called the office, and help is on the way. When we finish up here, why don't you stop by the hospital and check on him?"

"Thanks. I will."

David entered the DaVinci room, stepping around the blood stain on the floor, and took Colby aside to give him the good news.

Colby grinned. "He's going to be okay. That's great news." He glanced at the increasingly impatient visitors. "The natives are getting restless, though. The sooner we can get them all processed, the better."

David chuckled. "Man, you have such a way with words. Don't worry, the cavalry is coming. I told Liz she could go check on Don once we're done."

"Is that a good idea? She should be debriefed, don't you think?"

"Of course. Do you want to handle it, or should I?"

"I can do it," Colby said. "We should..."

"Agent Sinclair?" a voice echoed in the gallery.

David and Colby turned to see W. Jennings Stevenson enter the room, not looking at all happy. "Yes, Mr. Stevenson?" David said.

"Agent Sinclair! Why are these people being held?"

"They are witnesses, Sir. We have agents on the way to take their statements. We'll be releasing them as quickly as possible. Then we'll be able to seal and process the crime scene."

All the color drained from Stevenson's face. "The crime scene? You're planning on closing off the galleries?"

"Of course. Our crime scene team will be looking for clues." He raised his eyebrows. "I assume you're anxious for us to find your Michelangelo."

Stevenson scowled. "The Michelangelo would not have been lost if your agents had been in position."

David bit back an angry reply. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and muttered, "Let me see what's keeping those teams." As he was dialing, he glanced at Stevenson. "Be careful you don't step in my agent's blood there."

Stevenson looked down at the blood stain near the toes of his Ferragamo shoes. He took an involuntary step back and blinked at David. "I was very sorry to hear about Agent Eppes. Have you had any word on his condition?"

Amazing, David thought, the man is human after all. "He's going to be okay. He was still in surgery the last I heard."

Stevenson nodded. "We will of course do everything we can to cooperate with your investigation. Is there anything you need now?"

"I'd like to use an office to debrief several of my agents."

"You can use my office. When you're ready, just speak to any of the security guards. They'll be able to reach me." He stepped gingerly around the blood stain and gripped David's arm. "I truly am sorry. Agent Eppes is a good person." He turned and left the gallery without another word.

After he was gone, Colby shook his head. "I didn't see that coming."

"Me either," David agreed.

--

The waiting room was quiet again. Charlie fidgeted, staring at the magazine but lost in his thoughts. Amita was reading her magazine with one hand resting on Charlie's knee, rubbing it gently. Alan had actually started filling in numbers in his sudoku book. All three jumped to their feet when the double doors opened and a nurse entered the room. She smiled, "Hi. I'm Andrea. Are you folks here for Don Eppes?"

"Yes," Alan said, "how is he?"

Andrea's smile widened. "He's doing great. The doctor asked me to take you to ICU to see him. He'll be unconscious for a while yet, but you can sit with him for a few minutes if you'd like."

"Thank you," Alan said, "We would like nothing better at this point."

"He's so pale," Charlie said softly as they entered Don's room. His eyes went automatically to the heavy bandages on Don's belly. "That must have hurt," he murmured, unconsciously rubbing his own belly.

Alan hurried to Don's side, and touched his son's cheek gently. "He feels so cold."

Andrea went to the foot of the bed and pulled a blanket up to Don's shoulders. "That should help. He lost quite a bit of blood." She checked the IV bags. "This will be his last unit of blood for now. They stopped the bleeding, but he has a little catching up to do. This bag," she indicated a bag of clear fluid, "contains some pretty heavy duty antibiotics. We'll monitor him in here for a while and then move him to a room." She checked her watch. "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes." As she turned to go, she touched Alan's arm. "He'll be fine."

Alan couldn't take his eyes off of Don's face. He brushed Don's hair with his fingertips. "Oh, Donnie," he whispered, "my poor boy."

Charlie stood next to Alan, and gently took Don's hand in his, careful not to jostle the IV tubes. He blinked back tears and gnawed on his lower lip. "Don," he said softly, "I am so sorry."

Alan shot a glance at Charlie. "Don't," he said.

Stung by Alan's command, Charlie released Don's hand and stepped back. "Maybe I should just go."

"Stay," Alan said. "Don't you dare walk away from your brother when he needs you."

Charlie sighed and took Don's hand in both of his. "Hey, Bro. You hang in there, okay? We're here for you." He met Alan's gaze and said, "All of us, and we're not leaving."

Amita came up behind Charlie and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Oh, Don," she said, her voice breaking.

Charlie felt Don's hand moving inside his, and he squeezed back. Don's eyes fluttered and his lips moved. "Shhh," Charlie said, "Just rest, Bro. We're here."

Don took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His hand relaxed inside of Charlie's hands and his breathing slowed and deepened.

"That's good," Alan said, "Relax, Son."

Charlie leaned back against Amita. She knew he needed all the support he could get right now, so she just hugged him tighter and pressed her tear stained face against his shoulder.

A few minutes later, Andrea returned. Alan looked at her. "Already?"

"I'm sorry. I'm going to have to take you to the ICU waiting room. You can visit him for ten minutes every hour."

"Thank you for giving us this time with him," Alan said. "He stirred a little. It seemed like he was going to wake up, but he didn't."

She smiled. "With the sedatives and painkillers he's got in his system, I'd be very surprised if he wakes up before evening. Come on, I'll show you where you can wait. This waiting room is a little nicer. They have their own coffee and hot water for tea or cocoa up here." She led them to a small, quiet waiting room.

A receptionist looked up from her desk and gave them a kind smile. "Don Eppes' family? Please, make yourselves comfortable. And let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

They murmured their thanks and settled in to wait. Charlie's cell phone rang, and he looked apologetically at the receptionist. "It's okay in here," she said. "Just please turn it off when you're with Don, okay?"

"Thanks," Charlie said as he flipped the phone open. "Charlie Eppes."

"Charlie," Millie said, "I'm on the way to the hospital. Are you still in the emergency waiting room?"

After Charlie gave her directions and thanked her once again for coming, he closed the phone and leaned his head back.

"Tired?" Alan asked.

"More like drained," Charlie said with a sigh, not even opening his eyes. "Emotionally, physically and mentally drained."

"I understand," Alan said. "I feel the same way."

Amita brushed a curl from Charlie's forehead. "Well, I think the two of you are handling this very well. Don's not even my brother, and I just feel like crying." She wiped a tear from her cheek.

Charlie's cell phone rang again. He reached for it and flipped it open. "Charlie Eppes."

"Hey," Liz said.

"Liz," Charlie sat up, rubbing his eyes. "How are you doing?"

"How's Don doing?"

"He's out of recovery and in the ICU. We just got back from visiting him."

"How... how's he look?"

Charlie bit his lip. "All things considered, he looks good. They've got him knocked out, so he's not feeling a thing. He looks really pale, but they're still giving him blood. He... he lost a lot. The surgery was a success. They stopped the bleeding. He's going to be fine."

"Good," Liz said, her voice shaking. "In that case, I'm fine, Charlie. Thanks for asking."

Charlie grinned. "Good. Just don't ask me how I'm doing."

Liz laughed. "I understand. Listen, I'm almost there now. David let me sneak out early to see Don. You're in the ICU waiting room?"

"Yeah, it's..."

"I know where it is. I'll see you there in a few minutes."

Charlie closed his phone. "Well, things are about to get a lot more lively in here. Millie and Liz are both on their way."

"Batten down the hatches," Alan said, smiling. "Liz and Don are getting pretty serious, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Charlie said. "I think they're good together. I'm even getting used to her smart mouth comments."

Alan raised his eyebrows and Amita giggled. "It's true, Alan," Amita said. "She used to drive Charlie crazy."

"Well," Charlie said, "she had a smart remark every time I tried to explain some math concept."

"Charlie, even you have to admit that sometimes your explanations go over everybody's heads."

Charlie blushed. "I guess you're right. But she didn't even give me a chance. We've come to an agreement that seems to be working. She's going to try to tone it down, and I'm going to be less sensitive to criticism."

Alan snorted. "I'll believe that when I see it." He took the bite out of his comment by rubbing Charlie's shoulder. "You've always had a hard time with criticism. But you're doing a lot better than you did when you were a kid. Seriously, I am very proud of the man you've become."

Charlie smiled. "I don't stomp up to my room and slam the door any more."

"At least not as often." Alan said with a smile.


	17. Chapter 17

David and Colby stood in the middle of the room, near the blood stain, talking quietly and keeping an eye on the two perpetrators. The other museum guests had finally relaxed to the point that they took an interest in the art works they had waited so long to see. In groups of two or three, they looked at the drawings, speaking in hushed tones to each other, glancing uncomfortably at the two agents and the two perpetrators. A few brave souls came close enough to get a look at the tiny DaVinci drawing. Finally, a tiny elderly woman approached the agents. "Excuse me."

Colby kept watch while David turned to the woman, "Yes, Ma'am. Can I help you?"

"I hate to ask, after all that's gone on in here, but could you possibly move those awful women away from the Leonardo so we could see it?"

David's mouth dropped open, but he held back on the comment he really wanted to make. "I'm afraid it's a crime scene, Ma'am. After the technicians are finished, we'll take those two out of here and give the rest of you some time to see the DaVinci."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even asked. I hope you're not offended. My husband and I have been praying for your friend. I do hope he'll be all right."

David smiled. "I'm not offended at all. Thank you for your prayers. We've gotten word that he's going to be fine."

"That's good to hear." She went back to speak quietly to a tall, white-haired man.

"I can't believe she had the nerve to ask..." Colby muttered.

"Not everybody knows the rules of crime scenes. Speaking of which, these rooms will be a nightmare of a crime scene. All these witnesses, and I'll bet none of them saw what went down in either room. None of them were looking. At least there's no doubt about who shot Don."

"True."

David pulled out his notebook and started writing.

"What are you doing?" Colby asked.

"Making a 'to do' list. We've got a lot of loose ends to tie up before we're going to solve this case."

"Too bad we won't have the Whiz Kid on this one."

David chuckled. "You're not going to believe this, but when Charlie called to tell me about Don's condition, he asked me to bring anything I've got that he can help with."

"Really? He's tougher than I thought."

"Yeah. He wants to get the people responsible for shooting his brother. I'll get the list of the kids who were given tickets to the show for him. That sounds like something he could write an algorithm for."

"Good idea." They both turned as they heard noise coming from the other end of the galleries. "I think the cavalry is here."

While David deployed his teams to their tasks, and arranged to have the perpetrators taken into custody, Colby found Liz.

"Come on," he said. "I'm going to debrief you so you can go see how Don's doing"

"Thanks," she said softly.

As they walked toward the lobby, Colby caught sight of Stevenson. "Mr. Stevenson." He showed the museum director his badge. "Do you have a small office we could use for a few minutes?" As Stevenson lead the way, Colby caught the eye of a woman junior agent and signaled for her to accompany them. "Leslie? We need you for a few minutes."

As she caught up to them, Leslie said, "Agent Granger, Agent Warner, what can I do for you?"

"I need to debrief Agent Warner, and I'd just like you to sit in on the session."

Liz rolled her eyes. "Is that really necessary?"

Colby sighed. "These days, yeah. Unfortunately. I know you and trust you, Liz, but I can't take any chances. I'm sorry, but that's the way it's got to be. Haven't you read the sexual harassment guidelines?"

"Yeah, I've read them. The HR guys don't realize that our female agents would kick the butt of any male agent who tried to harass them."

Colby chuckled. "Maybe they ought to consider having protection for the male agents in these situations."

Leslie brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

--

Liz Warner was normally cool, calm and very collected. Nothing seemed to faze her. But when she entered the ICU waiting room, she was at the end of her rope. Charlie saw her first, and rushed to greet her. "Liz," he said softly, "he's going to be fine. Come in and sit down."

She rubbed her tear stained face and forced a smile. "Do I look that bad?"

Charlie guided her to a chair. "No.." He grinned. "Well, yeah, actually. You look the way the rest of us feel. Come on. Sit."

Alan and Amita stood. Alan embraced her. "Liz. Thank you for coming."

Liz wrapped her arms around Alan and sobbed. When she pulled away a few moments later, she was mortified. "Alan, I am so sorry." She fumbled in her pocket for a tissue. Amita touched her hand and held up a box of tissues. "Thanks," Liz said, taking a handful. She sniffed and wiped her face, then steadied her voice. "Alan, I'm sorry to have... well... after all you've been through today..."

"It's okay. You've been through a lot yourself. Were you... did you see..."

"I was in another room. I heard the shots and ran to see what had happened." She looked down at her hands. "While I was checking on Don, the picture I was supposed to be watching was stolen."

Charlie's face hardened as Alan and Amita consoled Liz. He muttered, "They shot Don as a distraction. What kind of animals are we dealing with? And why didn't they go for the DaVinci. That was clearly the best target."

"Heisenberg," Amita said softly. "They knew everybody expected them to go for the DaVinci, so they went for the second best target."

"And if I had been where I was supposed to have been, they never would have gotten it," Liz said.

Charlie took Liz's hand. "You can't blame yourself. We've got to concentrate on getting these... these..."

"Bastards?" Millie supplied as she strode into the room. "I assume we're talking about the creeps who shot Don?" She hugged Alan. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner. How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Alan lied. "Millie, do you know Agent Liz Warner?"

Millie pondered for a moment. "I don't believe we've been introduced. You were at the opening reception with Don, right? I'm Charlie and Amita's boss, here to check up on them."

Liz smiled and shook hands with Millie. "I'm on Don's team, and, uh..."

"She and Don are seeing each other," Charlie supplied.

"Oh, my poor dear, no wonder you're so upset. You weren't there... when it happened?"

"I was in the next room."

"Oh dear." She took Liz's hand. "Listen, Liz, as these good people will attest, I am a person who speaks her mind."

Charlie muttered, "One of the many things we love about our Millie."

"I heard that. Anyway, Liz, it's generally not good for coworkers, or especially boss and employee, to be dating. Maybe you should transfer to another team?"

"Well, I'm not officially on Don's team. I'm normally involved with gangs. But once in a while... actually, more and more often... we've been working together."

"Not a good idea, as I'm sure you've learned today. It affected how you did your job, didn't it?"

Liz nodded.

"I'm sure that 99 of the time, you two work wonderfully together. But then something happens to one of you and the other one, well, the other one falls apart. Am I right?"

"You're right," Liz said. "Colby debriefed me before I left to come here. I'm willing to bet that when Don's team is back to full force, I won't be working with him any more. With Megan on special assignment, and now with Don injured, it'll be a while. But right now, I can't wait to get back to breaking down doors in Compton."

--

On the surface, David Sinclair was cool, calm, and in control. He assumed the duties of lead agent without missing a beat. But Colby had been his partner for two years now, and knew that appearances could be deceiving. "Hey," Colby said as he reentered the room, "you doing okay?"

David nodded, "No," he said, smiling. "But we'll get through this How'd it go with Liz?"

Colby took a deep breath. "I told her it might be a good idea if she stopped working with Don."

"Really? How'd she take that?"

"Surprisingly well. She knows she screwed up, and she's ready for whatever repercussions come from that. She wants to do anything she can to save her career. It's got to be tough dating someone on your team," Colby mused.

David took a step back, holding up both hands, "Just as long as you don't get any ideas."

"Nah. I know you and Claudia have something going. I wouldn't mess with that."

"Good. Now let's get back to work. I just want to make sure everything's under control here, then I'd like to have a talk to our two latest perpetrators. I'm sure they've had time to get ahold of their lawyer."

Colby nodded. "It's going to be an interesting conversation. But you know, I'm having a hard time getting a handle on this case. It's like every time we start down one trail, something happens that pulls us a different way."

"I know what you mean. Hopefully Charlie can make some sense of it all."

--

All Charlie wanted to do was talk to Don. He wanted to look in Don's eyes, and listen to Don's voice, and know that his brother was all right. But every fifty minutes, he was disappointed. Don slept peacefully. Charlie was happy for that. But he really wanted to talk to him. After ten minutes of touching Don's cheek, squeezing his fingers, and listening to his deep breathing, Charlie would walk slowly, silently with his father back to the waiting room.

Finally, Andrea came to tell them that they had moved Don to his room. "You can sit with him..."

"Will he be waking up soon?" Charlie asked.

Andrea checked her watch. "It could be any time now." Seeing Charlie's expression, she added, "But he'll be very groggy. The medication he's on is pretty powerful. Don't expect too much too soon."

Alan put his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "We'll try not to. We're just anxious..."

"That's understandable," Andrea said. "Believe me, I know. But for now, just trust us that he's going to be fine. Come on, I'll take you to him." As she walked them down the hallway, she said, "Because he's in law enforcement, he'll be the only patient in the room So," she said, glancing at the crowd that followed her, "we'll be able to bend the visitation rules just a bit. You'll all be able to stay as long as you don't disrupt Don's care in any way. And," she looked from Alan to Charlie, "the spare bed will be available if you need to take a nap. From what I've seen so far, you two gentlemen don't plan on leaving any time soon."

Alan smiled. "You've got that right. And thank you for all your help."

When they arrived at Don's unit, Andrea said, "There's a small kitchenette behind the nurse's station. There's coffee and tea there. But I'd really recommend that you take turns staying with Don. You'll really need to get up and around after a while – go home, shower, change your clothes, go to the cafeteria for a meal. Don will be pretty much out of it for the next day or two, and you need to take care of yourselves too."

"Dr. Torre told us the same thing," Charlie said. "He said we'd have to be ready to take care of Don when he gets home."

Andrea grinned. "Dr. Torre is a very wise man. Okay, here we are. Room 714." She pushed the door open and peeked inside. "He's sleeping," she said softly. She led the way and checked Don's monitors and IV bags. "Everything's looking good."

Alan gently touched Don's forehead and blinked back tears. "My poor baby boy," he said softly. Glancing at Andrea, he said, "He feels a little warm."

"His temperature is up just a little. But we're watching it closely. The antibiotics should kick in soon. Abdominal wounds are prone to infection. I know you can't tell by looking at him, but he was very lucky."

Charlie smiled sheepishly. "Dr. Torre told us that too. I'm afraid I didn't agree with him until he explained."

"Don't worry. We know families aren't at their most rational when a loved one is injured. Especially in these circumstances. I heard about it on the news. A little girl shot him during a museum robbery?" She shook her head sadly. "My brother's a cop, and they have to be so alert all the time. You never know who's going to try to kill you. Well, I'll leave you to it. Press the call button if you need anything."

After Andrea left, Charlie quietly moved chairs around Don's bed. Alan sat in the closest, with Liz next to him. Don's left hand was free of needles and tubing, and she gripped it gently. Millie pulled a chair up behind Alan, and Charlie and Amita sat beside her. Amita took Charlie's hand and squeezed it. When he looked up at her, she touched his cheek. "It'll be okay," she whispered.

"I know," he said softly. "It's just hard to see him this way."

Liz sighed. "It sure is."

Charlie stood and started pacing. "I feel like I should be doing something."

"Charlie," Alan said, "please sit down. You don't want to disturb Don."

"All right." Charlie sat. "But I still feel like I should be doing something. Liz? You were there. Can you give me anything more to work with?"

"Nothing helpful," Liz said softly. "I wasn't in the room when Don was shot, and when I left my post to see what was going on, I was out of the room when the Michelangelo was stolen. So, I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help. To anybody." She ran her fingers through Don's hair, trying to straighten it a bit. "You'll have to talk with David and Colby if you're hoping to get anything useful."

Charlie pulled out his notebook and flipped back through his pages of notes and calculations.

"Got an idea?" Millie asked, leaning over to look at what he was writing.

"Not really. I'm hoping to jump-start my brain by looking through what I've got so far." He turned slightly so Millie couldn't see the notebook. "I really don't know where to go with this." He glanced at Don. "I just can't concentrate."

Amita massaged his shoulders. "You've got a lot on your mind right now. Don't try to force it."

Charlie leaned back and closed his eyes. "I told Don once that sometimes I can't work on what I want to work on, or what I need to work on. Sometimes I just need to work on what's in my head. The problem is, what's in my head right now is a tangled mess. I've got kids in wheelchairs, skydivers, a dead schoolteacher, a taser, and now a gun. Throw in three missing artworks for good measure. So far there's nothing consistent in any of it."

"The kids," Liz said, "There's always been kids in wheelchairs. Why?"

"Someplace to hide the paintings?" Alan suggested.

"Somebody you wouldn't suspect?" Millie said, "We perceive children as innocents. Yet these criminals are consistent in their use of children."

"Children and teachers," Charlie murmured. "The two brothers..." he wrote 'F.AGINCOURT' in block letters across the top of a new page.

Millie craned her neck to see what he was writing. "Fagin," she said. "Oh my gosh, Charlie! Fagin!"

"Fagin? What's that?" Charlie looked at Millie, a trace of concern in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Millie reached in front of Amita and ran her fingernail over the first few letters of what Charlie had written. "F.Agin. Fagin."

"Oliver Twist," Alan said, nodding. "Fagin was an old reprobate who trained street urchins to become thieves."

Amita said, "And you have two Fagins working with kids."

Liz shook her head. "You'll need more than that to get a warrant."

"Of course," Charlie said, flipping back and forth through his pages, and making notes on a blank page "But now I have a thread to follow through the tangled mess. Say you've got a huge tangle of a dozen different kinds of yarn. It'll be pretty much hopeless to pull that mess apart unless you just follow one thread at a time. I'm going to start following an Agincourt thread and see where it leads."

Alan turned around and smiled at Charlie's intent expression. "Just follow your thread quietly, Charlie. You don't want to disturb your brother."

Charlie stood, and, not lifting his eyes from his notebook, walked to the empty bed on the other side of the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. A moment later, Amita joined him, and the two talked quietly.

Alan patted Liz's hand. "If anyone can make sense of this mess, it's those two."

Liz glanced at the two professors as they worked. "I know. I don't understand half of what they say, but I can't argue with their results." She yawned and started to stretch. She stopped and looked at the hand that held Don's hand. He had squeezed her fingers.

"Don?" she said softly.

"Mmmm?" Don turned his head toward her voice and struggled to open his eyes. "Liz?"

Charlie dropped his notebook and hurried to Don's bedside. "Don!"

Don squinted, trying to focus on his brother. "Charlie?"

Charlie grinned. "Don! Hey, Brother, how are you feeling?"

"Like crap."

"Do you need anything?" Alan asked. "You want me to call the nurse?"

"No. I'm good," Don murmured. "Tired."

"Get some sleep, Donnie," Alan said, touching Don's cheek. "We'll be here if you need us."

"I know," Don said, closing his eyes. "G'night."


	18. Chapter 18

After Don had settled back into a deep sleep, Liz glanced at her watch. "I need to get back." She squeezed Don's hand before releasing it, then turned to Alan. "Thank you for letting me come with you."

"I knew Don would want you here. He doesn't talk about his feelings much, but I've gotten the impression that he really cares for you."

She stood, running her finger gently down Don's jawline. "And I really care for him."

"Come back when you have a chance, and feel free to call me, and I'll call you if there are any changes." They exchanged numbers, programming them into their cell phones. He stood and gave her a hug.

"Charlie," Liz said, "I'll see you later."

Charlie looked up from his work. He stood and gave Liz a quick hug. "See you later. You going back to the museum?"

"Probably. I'm going to find out where David wants me. Why?"

"David promised to give me more data. I'm following the Agincourt brothers' thread now, but I'll take anything he can come up with."

"I'll let him know. See you guys later." Liz gave a little wave and left the room.

A few minutes later, Amita said, "If you don't need me, Charlie, I could make it back for my next class."

"But you rode with me," Charlie said.

"I could give Amita a ride," Millie said. "I have a faculty meeting. I really should get back." She looked at Alan. "Unless you need me here."

"You can go ahead. Charlie and I will be fine, right Charlie?"

Charlie looked up from his work. "Right."

"Do you even know what I said?"

Charlie gave him a smug grin. "Of course, you told Millie she could go ahead. You and I will be fine. I am fully capable of multi-tasking." He turned to Amita. "And we will be fine. You go ahead to your class. There's really no point in all of us sitting around watching Don sleep."

"Okay, as long as you're sure," Amita said. "I'll be back later." She hugged Charlie and then hugged Alan. "You take care, Alan. Do you want me to bring anything when I come back?"

"Could you stop by the house and pick up my briefcase?" He pulled his keys from his pocket. "It should be in the dining room."

"How about you, Charlie?"

"I could really use my laptop," Charlie said, "If it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Millie said, "Any idea where you left it?"

"Hah, very funny. It's on the couch in the garage."

"So you're not the absent minded professor after all," Millie said. "If you're lucky, I may even find a cup of your favorite coffee on the way back here."

Charlie grinned, "That would be wonderful." He checked his watch. "It feels a lot later than it is."

Alan crossed the room and massaged Charlie's shoulders. "It's been a long day. Listen, it looks like your brother will be sleeping for a while. I think I'll walk the ladies to their car. You want anything from the cafeteria?"

Charlie shrugged, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Whatever they've got that looks good. And caffeine. I think I'm going to lie down for a few minutes."

"Good idea, Son. I won't be long."

--

The floor wasn't as hard as he remembered. And someone had put a pillow under his head. His nose itched. He raised a hand to scratch it, but the hand seemed to be tangled in something. He opened his eyes but they didn't want to focus. It was brighter and whiter than he remembered. His back was stiff, and he shifted, trying to work out the kinks. The stiffness morphed into a dull ache in the lower part of his belly. He looked down and saw the lightweight blanket that covered him. There were IV tubes stuck in his right hand. He found his left hand and slid it down to where his belly ached. Bandages. It was coming back to him now. The museum. The woman taking the drawing off the wall. The little girl. The gun. The eyes. They were cold, dead. The eyes of a killer. He shuddered.

Suddenly he didn't want to be alone. He looked around the room, expecting to see his father or Charlie sitting next to him. The chairs alongside the bed were empty. Beyond them, he could see another bed. There was another patient, sleeping. Snoring. He chuckled. The guy looked like... "Charlie?" he croaked. The curly headed sleeping patient didn't stir. "Charlie!" Charlie hadn't been at the museum. How...? "Charlie!" He tried to sit up, but his muscles weren't cooperating. He fumbled for the bed controller. If he could raise the head of the bed, maybe he could get up.

"Don!" Charlie was suddenly on his feet. "Don't try to get up. What's wrong?" Charlie jumped from the bed and hurried to Don's side.

Don grabbed Charlie's arm. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" Charlie laughed. "I'm fine. You're the one... " he looked back at the bed. "You saw me... you thought... Oh, man, Don, I'm sorry. I was just taking a nap."

Don bit his lip and blinked at the stinging in his eyes. "You scared me, Buddy. I thought..."

"I know, I know. I am so sorry. Hey, can I get you anything? How are you feeling?"

Don let himself sink back into the bed. "I'm not sure. Whatever they've got me on is making me feel pretty foggy."

"Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"

"No. No. I was just remembering..." he shuddered again. "That little girl... she looked... I've seen hit men with the same look in their eyes. Cold. You know?" He searched Charlie's face for a sign that he understood.

Charlie met his gaze and nodded. "Yeah. They must have been counting on the element of surprise. It's natural to assume a child is innocent. We all assumed the adults were in charge and the kids were along just as ... as window dressing. But if these kids were trained from an early age, kind of like the terrorists do with their kids, they would have the same attitude toward killing that the adults have."

"The attitude that they need to stop anybody who tries to stop them." Don felt himself sinking back down into the bed. He knew he wasn't going to be awake much longer. "Hey, Buddy?"

"Yeah, Don?"

"I think I'm going to go back to sleep. You can lie back down if you want. I promise not to freak out again."

Charlie chuckled. "Oh no. I'm not going to take any chances. Besides, Dad should be back with my dinner soon."

Don's eyes were drifting shut. "So that's why he's not hovering."

"We figured you were going to be asleep for another couple of hours. Otherwise he never would have left. And I, for one, am not planning on telling him you were awake while he was gone."

"Don't blame you, Buddy." Don put his index finger to his lips "Shhh. I won't say a word."

"I know you won't." Charlie touched Don's cheek. "Get some rest, Bro."

Don took in a deep breath and released it in a long sigh. Charlie patted Don's hand and started to walk away, assuming Don had fallen back asleep. "Charlie?" Don said, his eyes fluttering open.

"Yeah?" Charlie turned back and took Don's hand. "What do you need?"

"Nothin'," Don murmured, eyes closed, "Just wanted to know, is everybody else okay?"

"They're all fine. Nobody else was hurt."

"That's good. I'm gonna sleep now. If you get up the nerve, tell Dad I said hi."

--

Alan returned to Don's room, carrying a paper bag full of sandwiches and chips in one hand, and a cardboard holder with two cups of coffee in the other. He nearly dropped both when he saw Charlie, holding Don's hand and smiling. Don was sound asleep. "Awww, don't tell me I missed him!" Alan rushed to Charlie's side.

Charlie released Don's hand and took the cupholder from his father. "He was in and out. I was hoping he'd stay awake long enough to see you, but he's pretty doped up right now. He did tell me to tell you he said 'hi,'" He grinned at Alan, "If I managed to get up the nerve to tell you he was awake while you were gone."

Alan set the bag on the bedside table and touched Don's face. "That's okay. I'm just glad he's coming back around. Did he seem all right?"

Charlie took a long sip of coffee and nodded. After he swallowed, he said, "Yeah. He was kind of out of it. I don't think he was in any pain. Just a little uncomfortable when he tried to get up."

"He what?!"

Charlie sighed. "He woke up when I was asleep in the other bed. He apparently thought there was something wrong with me, and he tried to get up out of bed. Luckily I woke up in time to stop him." He turned away from his father and rubbed his eyes. "He's always looking out for me."

"Charlie," Alan said gently, "that's what brothers do. It's not your fault. Come on and have a sandwich. The food in the cafeteria actually looked edible."

Charlie took another sip of coffee. "The coffee's good. Maybe it's a sign the food will be decent."

Alan and Charlie pulled chairs over to the table and began to eat their sandwiches. As they were eating, they heard Don moving and muttering. Alan stood and took his hand. "Donnie," he said.

"Dad?" Don opened his eyes and smiled groggily. He caught sight of the sandwiches on the table. "Did you bring me something to eat?"

Alan chuckled. "I think it's going to be a few days before you're eating sandwiches and drinking coffee. But I think you could probably have a sip of water."

"Sounds good," Don murmured.

Alan poured water from the pitcher the nurse had left and put the straw to Don's lips. Don swallowed a few sips and said, "Thanks." He craned his neck to look around the room. "Is Charlie here?"

Charlie stood and moved into his brother's line of sight. "Right here, Bro. How are you feeling?"

Don paused, assessing his condition. "Better than I expected. They must have me on the good stuff." He gingerly touched his belly. "It doesn't hurt at all."

"That's great, Donnie," Alan said. "Don't hesitate to tell us if it does."

"Okay. If I'm awake long enough. Hey, Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"How are you doing? I mean, you heard it going down. Are you handling this okay?"

Charlie sighed and exchanged glances with his father. "Don't you worry about me. You concentrate on getting yourself better, okay?"

Don reached for Charlie's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Don't blame yourself."

Charlie couldn't meet Don's gaze. He looked down at his feet and murmured, "I'm fine."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it. But if I find out you're blaming yourself, I'm going to kick your butt."

Charlie grinned, "Yeah? You and what army? They got you hooked up to so many tubes, you'd trip before you even got close."

Don smiled as his eyes drifted shut again. "You'd be surprised what I can do, Buddy. I can take you with one hand tied behind my back."

Charlie patted Don's head. "Sure you can. Why don't you catch a nap first?"

"Good idea," Don murmured.

Once Don settled back to sleep, Alan and Charlie returned to their sandwiches. They ate in silence, but when Charlie stood to toss their wrappers and napkins into the trash, Alan spoke. "Charlie?"

"Hmm?"

Before Alan could answer, Dr. Torre entered. "How's our patient?"

"I thought you were going to get some sleep, Doctor," Alan said.

"I did," Dr. Torre picked up Don's chart. "Looks good. Did he wake up yet?"

"He woke up a few times and he seemed to be feeling okay," Alan said, "He didn't stay awake very long."

"With all the meds we have him on, that's understandable." Dr. Torre lifted the blanket and peeled back the gauze covering Don's wound. He nodded. "Very good. No sign of infection."

"That's great," Charlie said.

"Did you gentlemen get any rest?"

"I did," Charlie said. "I slept for a while in the other bed. Dad hasn't slept yet, but he did go for a walk and we had some sandwiches."

"Good. I'd like to see you two getting more rest though. We're going to keep Don doped up for another day or two." He glanced from Charlie to Alan. "And if you don't get some sleep, I'm going to ban you from this room. I can do that, you know."

"You wouldn't!" Alan said, narrowing his eyes at Dr. Torre.

"Try me," Dr. Torre snarled. He glanced at his watch. "Don't due for another dose of morphine in a few minutes. He will be out of it for at least four hours. I want you two out of here after he receives the morphine, and I don't want you back here for four hours. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal," Charlie murmured.

Dr. Torre chuckled. "You're a fan of 'A Few Good Men?'"

"Isn't everyone? 'You can't handle the truth!'"

"All right," Dr. Torre said, "the truth is you two are going to get some rest or Don goes into quarantine."

"Shouldn't one of us stay with him?" Alan asked.

"He'll be fine. I'm sure the nurses will take good care of him." He glanced at the door. "I hope none of them hears this, but I caught them arguing over who was going to check Don's vitals next time around. They all wanted to do it."

Alan shook his head, smiling. "My boys always seem to bring out the mother instinct in women."

Charlie bit back a laugh. "In Don's case, I'm not so sure it's mothering."

Dr. Torre finished checking Don. "All right, gentlemen. I'll see you later. Much later."

"See you, Doc," Charlie said. After Dr. Torre left, he turned to Alan. "Dad? You were going to say something to me. Before Dr. Torre came in."

Alan thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I forget. If it comes back to me, I'll let you know."


	19. Chapter 19

While they waited for the nurse to come with Don's morphine, Charlie started to pack up the few belongings he'd brought with them. "Dad, do you think Don will mind if I don't come back with you?"

Alan looked alarmed. "You're not going to lock yourself away in the garage again, are you?"

"Maybe. But not to work on P vs NP. I think I can be of more help to Don right now if I work on catching the thieves. I need to go to the FBI office and find out what new information they've gotten and I've got to get to work helping them find evidence to nail the Agincourt brothers." Charlie studied his father's expression, then hurried on, "I'll keep my cell phone on and with me at all times. You can call me if anything – and I mean anything – new happens with Don." He touched Don's shoulder gently. "But I need to do this for him."

"All right. But remember this wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't my fault, no. But if I could have done more to prevent it from happening..."

Don stirred. Without opening his eyes, he muttered, "You two aren't fighting, are you?"

"Never," Alan said.

"Of course not, Bro. We're just having a vehement discussion."

Don grinned and opened his eyes. "Good to see you're getting back to normal." He shifted slightly in the bed and grimaced.

"Donnie," Alan said, "are you in pain?"

"A little. Morphine must be wearing off."

Charlie squeezed Don's shoulder. "The nurse should be here in a few minutes with another dose. Want me to find out what's holding her up?"

"Nah. It was just a little twinge. I'll be fine."

"Listen," Charlie said, "Dr. Torre's kicking us out of here for a while. He wants the old man here to get some rest."

"Old man!" Alan said. "Who you calling an old man, baby boy?"

Charlie rolled his eyes and continued. "Anyhow, I thought I'd stop by your office and get the data from this latest robbery. Then I was going to see if I could help them put together enough evidence to nail these creeps."

Don opened his eyes and studied Charlie's face closely. "You'd better not be doing that P vs P thing..."

"NP," Charlie corrected. "I don't know why everybody thinks I'm going to freak out and try to solve that thing again. It's been nearly three years since I did that. I've grown a lot in that time."

"I know," Don said. "I'm sorry, Buddy. I ... I don't think you realize how hard that was on the rest of us."

"I know you were angry."

"Yeah. But I was angry because I was scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. You were blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault."

"But I should have been able to predict..."

"No!" Don struggled to sit up. "Listen," he said, giving up the struggle as Alan and Charlie held him down, "you are doing amazing work for us. But don't ever blame yourself for the actions of someone else. You're a genius, but you're not perfect."

"I never said I was."

"Not in so many words," Don grimaced again. "Damn. Where's that morphine?"

"I'll go see," Alan said. He gave Charlie a warning look. "Don't let him try to get up again. I'll be right back."

Charlie sighed. "Okay." He turned back to Don. "I think I get what you mean. Larry tried to get me to see that people are unpredictable, and that they don't always adhere to the laws of mathematics. I miss him. He always has a way of bringing me back to earth." Charlie smiled at his unintended pun. "I just wish he'd come back to earth soon." He noticed Don shifting uncomfortably in the bed. "Hang on, Don. Dad will be dragging half the staff in here any minute."

Don smiled weakly. "I know. Dad takes good care of us." He opened his eyes and scowled at Charlie. "You're trying to change the subject."

"No, I'm not. I promise I will not freak out."

"All right. That promise to kick your butt still stands."

"How is he?" Alan said as he entered the room.

"I'm okay, Dad. Hangin' in there," Don said.

Andrea appeared right behind Alan. "I'm sorry, Don," she said as she prepared to inject the morphine into Don's IV. "I got tied up with something else and lost track of time. It's a good thing your dad came and found me."

"'s okay," Don said. "It's not that bad yet."

"Don't you dare play the tough guy with me, G-Man. Dr. Torre will have my head if he finds out I neglected his prize patient."

"Prize patient?" Don asked. "What d'you mean?"

"Dr. Torre has a soft spot in his heart for law enforcement officers, especially feds. His son is an FBI agent in Sacramento. I guess he'd like to know that if, God forbid, Matt ever needs a doctor, he'll get the best possible care. There you go," she injected the morphine into the port. "Night night, Don."

"Thank you," Alan said as they watched Don drift off to sleep.

Andrea turned, hands on hips, "And you two are under orders to vamoose. If I see you back in less than four hours, I'm under strict orders to quarantine Don."

Alan raised his hands in surrender as Charlie picked up his bag. "We're going. I'll be back in four hours."

As Charlie and Alan pulled out of the hospital parking lot, Charlie used the built-in cell phone in his car to dial Liz. "Hey, Liz, we've got a change in plans. Don's doctor kicked us out of the room for at least four hours."

Her voice came over the car's speaker. "What happened? Is Don okay?"

"He's fine. Apparently Dr. Torre is worried that Dad and I are overtaxing ourselves. If we come back before four hours, he's threatened to put Don in quarantine."

Liz laughed. "Sounds like exactly the kind of take-no-crap doctor Don needs. Okay, so are you heading home?"

"Just to drop Dad off and pick up my laptop. Then I'd like to stop by and see what new data you have for me."

"You don't have to do that, Charlie..."

"Yes, I do. Listen, I just let a doctor push me around, I'm not going to let you do the same."

"All right. We're in the office now. I'll call you if that changes."

"Great. See you later."

His next call was to Amita. "Oh, hey, Charlie! I'm just on the way to your house to pick up your stuff."

"Good thing I caught you then. Don's doctor has forbidden us from coming back to the hospital for at least four hours. I'm dropping Dad off at home and then going to meet with Don's team at the FBI office."

"I'll wait for you then. Okay if I come along with you?"

"That would be great. I'm hoping they've got the data from this... latest crime."

"All right. I'll call Millie and let her know what's going on."

"Thanks. And would you tell her I'm planning on keeping up my regular schedule tomorrow?"

Alan peered at Charlie. "You're not planning on visiting Donnie in the hospital?"

"I'll talk to you later, Amita. And thanks for everything. I love you."

"I love you too. Good luck dealing with your dad."

"He's got you on speakerphone, you know," Alan said.

Amita laughed. "I know, Alan. I just wanted to hear your reaction."

"Great, now even you're getting into the act," Alan said, grinning. "You three are going to give me gray hair."

"You mean more gray hair," Charlie chuckled. "Gotta run, Amita. I think I'm going to be grounded." Charlie hung up the phone and glanced at Alan. "I'll be there for you and Don, Dad. Tomorrow's a light day at school."

Alan leaned back in the seat and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I know you have your responsibilities."

Charlie patted Alan's knee. "My family is my biggest responsibility, Dad. But from what Dr. Torre said, Don will be out of it tomorrow anyway. If I keep up with my school obligations while Don's doped up, I won't feel as bad about missing classes when he comes home."

Alan nodded. "Makes sense."

"Dad? Don will be fine."

"I know. It's just hard when your kids get hurt. You'll understand when you have kids of your own. Speaking of which, how are you feeling? Any headaches?"

"No. You're not going to start mother-henning me, are you?" He glanced at his father, and noticed his stricken expression. "I'm sorry, Dad. Listen, for the next four hours you can come with me to the FBI office and mother hen me all you want, okay?"

--

Once they arrived at home, Alan fixed a pot of coffee. He set out a box of Pepperidge Farm cookies when the coffee was ready. "You two kids help yourselves. I think I'll just lie down until I can go back to the hospital," he said. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all, Dad. You can mother hen me later."

"One of these days, that smart mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble, Son," Alan said with a weary smile. "Amita, I delegate the mother henning of this ungrateful wretch to you." To take the sting out of his words, he took Charlie by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. "You're sure you're okay?

"I'm fine." Charlie pulled Alan into a hug. "Thanks for worrying about me," he murmured. "I really do appreciate it."

Once Charlie had retrieved his laptop, he and Amita got back into his car. As he was backing out of the driveway, she said, "Your Dad's sweet."

"In a crusty sort of way, yeah, he is."

"Someone told me once that if I wanted to see what kind of a husband a guy would make, I should take a look at his father."

"Really? And what have you determined?"

Amita laughed. "Oh, no. I'm not going to fall into that trap."

"Trap? What trap?"

"Discussing the 'm' word. That's a sure way to make a guy take off."

Charlie touched her cheek. "You'd have to do a lot more than that to make me take off. So tell me. What do you think when you see my father? Would I be good husband material?"

"Seriously? You would make an excellent husband."

"Uh oh." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Note to self: Find a way to dump Amita while there's still time."

Laughing, she punched his arm. "Your dad is right. Your smart mouth is going to get you into trouble one of these days." She studied his face quietly for a long moment. "Listen, Charlie, I don't want to be a nag – or a mother hen – but are you okay?"

Charlie sighed. "I'm fine. Why is everybody so worried about me?"

Amita reached over and pushed a lock of hair back from his forehead. "We care about you, Charlie. And this case has become personal for you. It's not just an intellectual exercise this time. You've been beaten up, shot at, and your brother's been injured. It's only natural that you'd get upset."

Charlie bit his lower lip and nodded. "It is personal. But I'm not falling apart this time. I'm angry. I want to get these guys, and I want to do it before anyone else gets hurt."

The bullpen was empty, so Charlie led the way to the conference room where Don's team lived so much of their lives. Sure enough, Liz, David and Colby were there, poring over files. Charlie was surprised to see Ben and Maggie sitting with the agents. Maggie stood and rushed to embrace him. "Charlie! I was so sorry to hear about Don. Is he okay? Are you okay?"

Charlie returned Maggie's hug and pulled back with a smile. "Don's going to be fine. He woke up and talked to us for a while. And I'll be fine once I help solve this case for him. What are you guys doing here?"

"David called us and asked us to help the rest of you figure out where the thieves will strike next. Ben has some ideas that might be helpful."

Ben had stood to greet the newcomers, and he stepped forward to shake Charlie's hand and nod to Amita. "Perhaps you and the agents could figure out the probability of this happening, but I thought perhaps the thieves might go back to the Hammer to steal the DaVinci."

David and Colby exchanged glances, and Colby whistled. "Now that would take balls."

Charlie and Amita had taken seats, and Charlie was in the process of pulling his computer from its bag. "Well, that's something these thieves seem to have in abundance." He turned to David. "What are the chances the museum will increase its security after this incident?"

"The director did say they were going to beef up the security. But if the DaVinci is still the best target..." He glanced at Charlie, who nodded. "...then I would think it's still a possibility."

"How soon are they going to reopen the show?" Liz asked.

"Believe it or not, they want to reopen tomorrow," David said.

Charlie looked up from his computer and shuddered. "I don't think I'd be able to go there after... after what happened."

Amita squeezed his hand. "I don't blame you."

"All right," David said, "for now, let's consider the DaVinci to be the prime target. If we eliminate the Hammer, can you guys figure out what would be next?"

"We can do that," Charlie said, "But I'm also going to need the data from this morning." He leaned back and rubbed his face. "It seems like it's been days since..."

David handed Charlie a folder. "Here's what we've got so far. Some of the interviews are still being transcribed."

"Thanks." Before he could open the folder, Charlie's cell phone rang. He opened it and looked as the display. "Charles Eppes," he said.

"Charles?" The voice crackled with static.

"Larry?"

"Charles! Yes, it's me. Or it is I. Millie contacted me, and I felt I should call you. How is Don doing?"

Charlie smiled. "He's doing better, Larry. Thank you for calling." He remembered he was sitting in a room full of people. "Would you guys excuse me?" He glanced around the table, then stood and left the room. Don's team's section of the bullpen was empty, of course. After a moment's hesitation he sat in Don's chair. "Okay, Larry. Sorry about that."

"If this is a bad time, I could call back later."

Charlie laughed, then clapped his hand over his mouth as heads turned in his direction. "No, please. It's fine. I... I've been wishing I could talk to you..."

"I wish I could be there for you, Charles. But the only way home won't be available for some time yet. So tell me, what have you been wishing you could say to me?"

"It's not so much what I want to say. I just wanted... I needed... you have a way of bringing me down to earth, you know?"

Larry's laugh crackled through the static filled line. "Oh, Charles, that was funny. Listen, I don't have long to talk. So if you don't mind, I'll cut to the chase. I imagine now you're upset, worried, and stressed. You're blaming yourself. Am I right?"

"You're right," Charlie said softly.

"It's okay to feel what you're feeling. But don't let those emotions cloud your judgment. And most of all, don't let those emotions interfere with your mathematics. There is nobody on that little blue ball who can do more with numbers than you, my friend. Let them do what they're meant to do, and don't twist them into something they're not. If the numbers point toward Mother Teresa, they're just as right as if they pointed to Attila the Hun. If you've let them be what they are." Larry paused. "I'm going to have to hang up in another minute or so. Was that at all helpful? Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Charlie blinked back tears. "Come home soon? I know, I know. You can't. And, yes, talking with you has helped me regain my focus. If Mother Teresa were still alive, she'd have something to worry about, but we're all hoping it's Attila the Hun. But I'll go wherever the numbers lead me. Hey, before you go, you've got to tell me what it's like up there."

"Charles, it defies description. The beauty is breathtaking. I've been taking photographs, but I'm sure they won't even begin to do it justice. I've been given the opportunity to live my dream. An opportunity I wouldn't have had if you hadn't made that phone call. But I would give it all up if I could have been there when you needed me."

The tears that had been threatening finally overflowed. Charlie fought to control his voice. "Thank you," he whispered.


	20. Chapter 20

When Charlie finally returned to the conference room, after a quick stop in the men's room to splash cold water on his face, he apologized. "I'm sorry for the interruption, but I really had to take that call."

"How's Larry doing?" Amita asked as she slid his laptop back to him.

Charlie grinned. "He's doing great. Believe it or not, he had a hard time coming up with the words to describe it all."

"Larry? At a loss for words?" Ben said, chuckling. "I find that hard to believe."

"So, what'd I miss?" Charlie said.

"Not much," David said. "Amita started inputting the new information into your program. Ben and Maggie have been going over the list of artworks in the area. I feel like we're just treading water here, waiting for them to act again. And I don't want to be in that position."

Charlie nodded. "I don't blame you." He picked up a folder and started browsing through it. "We'll get them. Listen, is it okay if I take this with me?"

"You need to leave now? Or can you wait for the rest of the information?"

"I can wait," Charlie said. "I told Don I might not be back today. He was good with that. My Dad even understood, believe it or not."

"I'll go see how they're coming with the rest of the interviews," Liz said, standing. As she walked past Charlie, she rested a hand briefly on his shoulder.

He looked up at her, smiling. "You okay, Liz?"

"Yeah, I'm great," she muttered as she squeezed his shoulder and left the room.

Maggie shook her head. "It's a rough day for everyone."

"David," Charlie looked up from the folder he was holding, "have you guys had any luck with the crowd you have in custody? The skydivers, the little boy, the pregnant couple, the old guy?"

"Not at all. They're all lawyered up. Why? You got something in mind?"

"Maybe. Though the lawyers might make it a little more difficult."

Colby stood and reached for the coffee carafe. "Hey, Charlie, how about that tit for tat thing Don did with that death row guy? All we need is for one of the eight to fall for it."

"We could try that. We'll need to find out what's important to each of the prisoners – what we can offer or withhold."

Amita picked up a styrofoam cup from the package in the middle of the table and held it up for Colby to fill. "Thanks. But, Charlie, what about trying reciprocal altruism? Someone like that old man might have enough of a sense of decency to respond well to that."

"'Reciprocal altruism?" Colby asked. "Giving good back and forth? How's that going to help?"

"You're close," Charlie said. "Reciprocal altruism can work because humans tend to respond positively when someone does something nice for them. Say, for example, Amita is angry at me. If I bring her flowers, she'll be more likely to respond positively when I apologize for being an idiot."

Colby grinned. "You have a lot of experience in that area, professor?"

"You'll have to ask Amita. Anyway, the weakness in this method is that there's a high probability the target will cheat. That he or she will accept the altruistic action without reciprocating. In the long run, organisms handle that by kicking the cheaters out. For example, vampire bats who gather a lot of blood will often share with bats who don't gather as much. The assumption.."

"Assuming bats are capable of assuming," David chuckled.

"The assumption is that the bats who have collected more than they need today might some day be in a position where they'll need help from the other bats. If they've shared their largesse with the others, it's more likely the others will share with them. Bats who take advantage of the system, who take too often without giving, are banned from the group."

"So it works in the long run, but what about the short run? What do our targets gain by cooperating if we do some random act of kindness for them?" Colby asked.

"That's why I suggested the old man," Amita explained. "Older people are more likely to feel an obligation to react positively to acts of kindness."

"And kids, too," Maggie added. "Kids have a well-developed sense of fair play, don't they? You hear them complaining if something's not fair."

"That's right," Charlie said. Turning to David, he said, "Where are the transcripts of the interviews with the kid and the old man? Maybe we can find something we can use."

David dug through a folder and handed Charlie a sheaf of papers. "Anything else?" he asked the group.

"Have you talked with the Agincourt brothers?" Ben asked. "Since neither of them has been arrested, aren't you allowed to question them without giving them access to a lawyer?"

"We are," David said, "but if we approach them the wrong way, they're going to shut down on us. We've got to find the right way to handle this. We really need a profiler to help us figure out what to do with them."

"Well," Maggie said, "do all teams have profilers? I'm sorry, but I'm not really familiar with the way the FBI works. You all seem pretty well versed in the workings of human nature. Between your training and your experience, I'm guessing you can work this out."

"Besides," Ben said, "you do have four teachers here. If anyone understands the criminal mind, it's a teacher."

David laughed and visibly relaxed. "Okay, so I guess we'll pool our resources. Charlie, you were working on the information we have on the Agincourts, right?"

"I was. Let me call up what I've gotten so far." He opened a program and a chart appeared on one of the screens. "Fred Agincourt is an elementary school teacher. Ellen Davis, who was involved in the first theft, and was killed shortly afterwards, worked in an after school program he runs. Don was going to check on Fred, but I don't know how far he got. According to Ellen Davis' husband, Fred had trouble controlling the kids in the program. He is enthusiastic about his subject matter, but not good with discipline."

"How long has he been teaching?" Maggie asked. "A teacher who can't control the kids doesn't last long unless he knows somebody important."

"Good point," Charlie said. "According to the school records, he has tenure, and has been teaching in the same school for twelve years. By the way, Francis, his twin brother, has been teaching high school in the same system for fifteen years."

"Okay," David said, "that's something we have to follow up on. Is Fred really as incompetent as Ed Davis thinks he is? If so, how has he kept his job this long?"

Liz returned, carrying a folder. "Sorry it took so long. I had to wait for them to finish up. And," she glanced down at her hands, "I called to see how Don was doing." She met Charlie's startled glance, "Your dad says he's doing fine. He's awake and coherent."

Charlie laughed, "And probably demanding to know when he can get the hell out of there."

"Almost exactly word for word," Liz said with a grin. She looked up at the screen, "Sorry for the interruption. What'd I miss?"

Colby offered Liz a cup of coffee, which she took gratefully. "Charlie was just filling us in on the brains behind this theft ring. Fred, there, may have gotten tenure even though he can't keep his kids under control."

"It wouldn't be the first time an incompetent got tenure," Liz said. "Of course, I'm not talking about anybody here."

Charlie shook his head, "You'd better not be, Agent Warner, or we're going to take our bag of magic tricks and go home. Now," he continued, "Don had said he was going to look into the Agincourts. Did he delegate that to any of you?" The three agents shook their heads. "Okay, I'll ask him about it when I see him tonight. We need to know about this after school program. If Fred is involved with recruiting the kids for this ring, he may be doing it through this program."

"Okay," David said, "Is that it for Fred?"

"It is. We know even less about Francis. He's a high school teacher. Daniel Weimar, who most likely took a couple of shots at me, was one of his students."

"And speaking of your students," Colby said, "wasn't another one of them related to Ellen Davis?"

"Right, Greg Spencer is her cousin. But back to Francis, he also bought one hundred tickets for kids in wheelchairs to attend the opening of the art show at the Hammer. It would make sense to explore his motivation for doing that."

David stood, "Okay, it looks like we've got our work cut out for us. Charlie, why don't you go talk to Don? It sounds like we need to fill in some gaps, and he might just be able to do that for us."

Ben glanced at his watch. "David, if you're done with us for now, I believe Maggie and I are going to head home."

"I think we're set. And thank you so much for your help with this case," David stood and shook hands with Ben.

Maggie gave David a quick hug. "You take care of yourself, David. And call us if there's anything we can do to help."

She turned to Charlie and pulled him into a hug. "Charlie, tell Don we said hi. If he's still in the hospital tomorrow, we'll stop by after class and visit him, okay? And you'd better get some rest, young man. You look dead on your feet."

Charlie laughed. "Great. Dad's not here to mother hen me so you have to take over for him."

"Hey," Maggie said, "It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it. We'll see you tomorrow."

"We'll walk out with you," Charlie said. "Where'd you park?"

Charlie was surprised to see it was dark as they left the FBI office. He glanced at his watch. Amazing. It was after nine o'clock. By the time they made it to the hospital, it would be after ten. He tried to remember the visiting hours, but couldn't.

As he opened the door of his Prius for Amita, he said, "I think we're going to have to pretend to be FBI agents to get in to see Don at this hour."

"How? We don't have badges."

"True, but I think we can pull it off. I have my FBI ID."

"All that does it get you into Don's office."

"True, but a friend told me years ago to just project an air of authority, and you can get in just about anywhere. If you walk into a hospital carrying a clipboard and looking like you belong there, you can get into just about any room. Of course, that was pre-9/11, but I think we can do it."

"I don't have a clipboard." Amita glanced into the back seat. "You don't happen to have one, do you?"

"No, but I've seen more and more doctors walking around with laptops. And we do have laptops."

"True. And I think we can project an air of authority. We are, after all, professors.""

"Right! We just have to walk in like we're walking into a lecture hall full of freshmen." Charlie pulled out of the parking lot. "And we were sent by the lead Special Agent in charge of the investigation. That's gotta count for something."

Charlie and Amita walked past the front desk with a smile and a nod at the guard seated there. The guard said, "Excuse me."

Charlie turned. "Yes?"

"Would you please sign in?"

Charlie signed in first, filling in his name, the room number he was visiting, and his reason as "FBI debriefing."

Amita suppressed a smile as she signed her name, and put ditto marks in the remaining columns.

Once they were safely in the elevator, she burst into laughter. "'FBI debriefing?' Charlie!"

He shrugged. "What? That's what we're here for. Now we've got one more hurdle – the nurse's station on Don's floor, but that shouldn't be a problem."

Charlie hadn't counted on Nurse Mary Ryan. Nurse Ryan was very careful to protect her charges from intruders. These two young people appeared to know where they were going. They walked past the nurse's station, smiling confidently at her, not even slowing down. "Just a moment!" She called. When they stopped, she said, "Visiting hours are over."

Charlie led the way back to the nurse's station. "I'm aware of that. Special Agent David Sinclair of the FBI has asked us to debrief Special Agent Don Eppes, in room..."

"I'm fully aware of which room Agent Eppes is in. May I see your identification?"

Charlie handed her his FBI visitor's pass. She read it, and glanced up to compare the face before her to the photograph on the pass. "Eppes, hmm? Any relation?"

"Don's my brother," Charlie bit his lip. "I know it's late, but we just got back from the FBI office. Agent Sinclair really did ask us to see if Don was up to answering any questions."

Nurse Ryan smiled at Charlie as she handed back his pass. "Your brother is doing very well. I was just talking with him a few minutes ago. He's not due for his morphine for a while yet, so you're catching him at a good time."

"Thank you," Charlie said as he and Amita continued to Don's room.

Amita took his arm and leaned close to whisper, "Nice job of projecting an air of authority."

Charlie chuckled, "Oh, well. We made it, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Unless there's another guard at Don's room."

But the only guard at Don's room was Alan. He looked up and smiled, "Charlie! Amita! Look who's awake!"

"Don," Charlie said. "You're looking good. How are you feeling?"

"Hey, Buddy," Don said, his voice a little on the shaky side. "I'm feeling better. You look like crap, though."

"Gee, thanks," Charlie said, reaching to take Don's hand. "Seriously, you really feeling better?"

"Yeah. Hey, Amita."

"Hi, Don."

"You don't look like crap. Just Charlie. You never look like crap."

Amita blushed and glanced at Alan, "I hope that's the morphine speaking."

Alan looked at her over his reading glasses. "Possibly, but he is right, you know. You never look like crap. Charlie, on the other hand, has made looking like crap a fashion statement."

"Oh, it's wonderful to be loved," Charlie said, rolling his eyes. "Say, Don, you feel up to discussing the case?"

"Charlie!" Alan warned. "Your brother is hurt."

"I know, Dad. I'm sorry, Don. That wasn't fair..."

"No! It's okay, Buddy. I'd love to discuss the case. No offense, Dad, but I'm bored."

Charlie gave Alan an apologetic glance, then sat on the edge of Don's bed. "We've got a lot of loose ends right now, and we were hoping you'd be able to tie some of them up. The other day, you said you were going to check into the Agincourt brothers. Did you get a chance to do that?"

Don's brow furrowed as he thought for a moment. "Yeah, I started on it. I requested their background information. That's probably in my in basket. And I called their schools to make an appointment to discuss Fred's after school program. I was supposed to meet with the principal tomorrow. Are you going to be seeing David any time soon?"

Charlie nodded. "I'll probably go back there tonight."

"Tonight?" Alan said. "That's crazy, Charlie! It's late."

"I know, but if the background information is in Don's in basket, I can start going through it." He turned back to Don. "Why don't you give me the information on that appointment. David can send someone else."

Don grinned, "Why? You don't think I'll be out of here in time?"

Charlie snorted. "Not if Nurse Ryan out there has anything to do with it. She's apparently appointed herself your protector. She tried to stop us from coming to see you."

"And you got through anyway? I obviously didn't pay her enough," Don said, chuckling.


	21. Chapter 21

After the professors had left, David, Liz and Colby settled down to go through the information they had collected. David's phone rang, and he sighed as he picked it up. "Sinclair."

"David, it's Charlie. Listen, Don said the background information on the Agincourt brothers should be in his in basket. And he has an appointment to meet with ... " Charlie's voice got quieter, "Don, where and when is your meeting tomorrow?... Okay. Sorry, David. Don has an appointment to meet with the principal at Fred Agincourt and Ellen Davis' school tomorrow morning at nine fifteen."

"That's great, Charlie! Thanks. How's Don doing?"

"Cranky."

David laughed. "That's good to hear. When Don's cranky that means he's on the mend. Tell him I'll meet with the principal. I want to stop by and see Don too. Not to discuss the case, just to see how he's doing."

"I think he'll be disappointed if you don't discuss the case with him."

In the background, David could hear Don's voice, "Damn straight! Charlie, you tell him he's going to come here and give me his report first chance he gets."

"Hey, you tell him he's not lead agent on this case any more. I don't have to report to him."

Charlie laughed, "Oh, no, David! You'll have to tell him that yourself. Hey, do you mind if I stop by to look through the information on the Agincourts?"

"Tonight? It's getting late, Charlie. Why don't you get some rest? It's been a long day." David glanced at Colby and saw him roll his eyes. "I know you want to get these guys, but you came really close to losing Don today. Why don't you spend some time with him?"

David held his breath, wondering if he'd gone too far. Finally he heard Charlie sigh. "Okay. But I'll be there tomorrow to get that data."

David grinned and gave a thumbs up sign to Colby. "This has got to be a first. I've actually talked Charlie Eppes into waiting."

Charlie chuckled. "Well, on second thought..."

"No! Forget I said that. I'll see you tomorrow." When he finished the conversation with Charlie, David stood, stretching his back.

Liz said, "You were a little hard on Charlie."

"I know," David said. "It was a calculated risk. I didn't want to freak him out, but I wanted to bring him back to reality. He seemed to take it okay, though."

"That's good," Colby said. "He kind of idolizes Don, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, kind of," David said, grinning. ""The background information on the evil twins is in Don's in basket. Why don't you two call it a night? I'm going to have a look ..."

"I'll help you," Liz said, standing to follow him.

Colby stood as well, "What the heck. What else am I going to do? Sleep?"

"Sleep?" Liz said. "What's that?" She accepted a file folder from David, and the three sat down and started going through the data.

--

Charlie closed his cell phone, staring thoughtfully at it before putting it in his pocket.

"Is everything okay?" Amita asked.

"Hmm? Yeah." Charlie looked at his brother. "David just... well, he just helped me adjust my priorities. I'm not going back there until morning." He sat on the edge of Don's bed. "How are you doing? Honestly."

"A little sore. Tired. Bored. Hungry." He held up his left hand, showing Charlie the IV tube. "This, and clear liquids is all they'll let me eat for now. I hear they may let me have soft foods tomorrow to see how my plumbing is doing."

"Soft foods? Like Jello?"

"Nah, Chuck, that's clear liquids. They actually let me have some green and some yellow this afternoon."

"And I missed it? I know how much you love Jello."

Don rolled his eyes. "Well, I was hungry and I had this nasty taste in my mouth. Anything would have been an improvement. Even yellow Jello."

A tune suddenly forced its way into Charlie's head, and he struggled to suppress a grin. "Yellow Jello, hm?" He glanced at Alan, who appeared to have had the same thought, and began to sing quietly, "They call it yellow Jello."

Don chuckled and added, in a hideous British accent, "Quite rightly."

Alan shook his head and stood, placing his hands in the small of his back and grimacing. "I'm going to stretch my legs. Amita, boys, you want anything?"

Charlie said, "I'd like some tea, if they have it."

"Me too," Amita said.

Don looked innocently at his father, "I take it rib eye is out of the question."

"Unless they make that flavor of Jello, you are out of luck, my boy."

Charlie and Don both grimaced at the image of beef-flavored Jello, and Don said, "Thanks. At least I'm not hungry any more."

As Alan left the room, Charlie said, "Maybe I can help with the boredom. You feel up to discussing the case?"

"Definitely."

"Well, since I got us in here by saying I was here to debrief you for the FBI..."

"Really?"

"Yep," Amita said. "He decided to project an air of authority."

"Well, I didn't have a clipboard, so I needed some way to convince the powers that be that I needed to be in this room."

"And that worked?" Don asked.

"Until we got to Nurse Ryan," Amita said, giggling. "She punctured his air of authority pretty quickly."

"Yeah," Charlie said, "I had to play the little brother card."

Don looked at Amita in horror. "He didn't do the sad puppy dog eye thing, did he?"

"Well, not exactly," she said, grinning. "He did bite his lower lip, though."

"Hey," Charlie said, "I showed her my FBI visitor's pass and she made the connection with the names. When I admitted that you were my brother, she expressed her sympathies and let us through."

Don turned again to Amita, "Did she really express her sympathies?"

"No," she admitted. "she did tell us you were doing well, and said you were up to answering some questions before your next shot of morphine."

"All right, then," Don said, "what did you need to know, Charlie?"

"Well, it was mostly the thing about the Agincourts' background check and the appointment. But now that you're a little more with it, do you feel up to discussing what happened at the museum? I don't want to push if you're not ready..."

Don smiled gently and squeezed Charlie's hand. "I'll be fine, really, Buddy. Let's see what I can remember," he said, closing his eyes. "Okay, I was watching the DaVinci while we were talking. I saw a woman pushing a wheelchair right up to the DaVinci. She was young. Maybe late twenties. She let go of the wheelchair and grabbed the frame with both hands. She was so obvious about it. No distraction, nothing. She just twisted it like she was trying to pry it off the wall. I drew my weapon and told her to step back." He paused, gnawing his lower lip and glanced at Charlie. "Then I saw the little girl in the wheelchair move." He grimaced, closing his eyes again. "I yelled for everyone to freeze. Someone screamed. A lady, I think. I didn't turn to look. But the woman smiled." He looked at Charlie. "She just smiled at me. Then... then the little girl fired. Twice I think. I got a shot off, but I don't think it ... oh, God. I didn't hit any of the bystanders, did I?"

"No," Charlie said softly, squeezing Don's hand. "You were ... the only one hit."

"Good," Don said, sighing. "I don't really remember much after that. Liz came in. I remember telling her to go back and check the Michelangelo. At least I think I did."

Charlie nodded. "You did. And you were right. The attempt on the DaVinci. Shooting you. Those were the distractions this time."

Don opened his eyes and reached for the cup of water on the night stand. Charlie picked it up and held the straw to Don's lips. "Thanks," Don said. "Did you get anything useful?"

"Actually, yes, I think so. The woman smiling at you. That was something new. I don't know what it means. And the girl. She drew your attention first. She didn't just shoot you. And the woman screaming." He shrugged. "They could mean something, or not." He put the cup back on the night stand and added some more ice water from the pitcher. "Want more?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Charlie held the straw to Don's lips again. "I'm sorry I put you through all that again..."

Don shrugged. "It's okay. Every time I'm awake and alone, I run through it in my head, trying to see if there's anything I missed. Anything I should have done differently."

"And was there?"

"Not really. Not that I can see. The woman was the more obvious threat. I was right to keep my eye on her, not on the kid."

Charlie nodded. "That makes sense. They knew what your instincts would be, and went counter to what you'd expect. They used the DaVinci as a distraction, and stole the less valuable Michelangelo. They used the kid to shoot you instead of the adult. I wonder..."

"What?" Don said.

"No. It's probably a stupid idea."

"Charlie, don't second guess yourself."

"I wonder if they targeted you because you were the team leader."

"How could they know I would be the first one to see the woman?"

"See. I told you it was a stupid idea." He tapped his temple with his index finger. "But I'm brainstorming here, and brainstorming leads to some stupid ideas and some good ideas."

"And it leads to more creative ideas," Amita said. "If you ignore your inner editor, and just let the ideas flow, you're more likely to come up with a lot of good ideas, and a lot of bad ones."

Charlie nodded, "And after all the ideas are collected, then you turn your inner editor loose on them, and get rid of the ones that don't make any sense."

Don lowered the head of his bed and grimaced. "Wait until I get my morphine, and I'll come up with a whole lot of ideas. And I guarantee you your inner editor will toss out most of 'em."

"Let me call the nurse," Charlie said, pressing the call button.

Nurse Ryan entered almost immediately. "Ready for your pain meds, Agent Eppes?"

"Please," Don said weakly. "Were you hovering outside my door again, Mary?"

She chuckled as she administered the dose of morphine. She touched Don's forehead gently. "I was not hovering. I just happened to be walking by."

"Sure," Don said as he drifted off to sleep.

--

When Alan returned, carrying three steaming cups in a cardboard holder, Don was asleep. That didn't trouble him as much as the sight of Charlie, eyes downcast, holding Don's hand. "Charlie?" he said softly. "What's wrong?"

Charlie looked up, his expression bleak. "Nothing," he lied as he took the cup of hot tea his father offered him. He met his father's eyes and tried to force a smile. "He just had his morphine. He'll be out of it for a while." The smile faded. "I had to have him go through what he remembered about the shooting."

"Why?" Alan asked as he handed Amita the other cup of tea.

"I needed to know. In case there was anything we were missing." He looked up at Alan, his eyes pleading. "He said it was okay. I just feel bad.about it."

"With good reason," Alan snapped. Charlie winced as if he had been struck, and Alan immediately regretted his comment. "I'm sure you thought you were doing the right thing, and I know you're anxious to find out who did this, but..."

"He said he goes through it over and over again whenever he's awake anyway," Charlie said softly, looking at Don and blinking back tears. "I didn't know that. Of course, I haven't been here enough to see much of anything."

Amita put her hand on top of his. "That's not fair, Charlie. You've been here."

"Not enough, though. When I spoke with David earlier, you know what he said? He said I came close to losing Don today and that I should spend some time with him. And he was right."

Alan sighed. "He may have been right, but there was no call for him to be so harsh."

"It's okay. It's the verbal equivalent of hitting a stubborn mule upside the head with a two by four to get its attention." He gave Alan a pointed glance, "And you, of all people should know that this particular stubborn mule needs to pay attention more often."

"You got that right," Alan said, settling into his chair and pausing for a sip of his coffee. He glanced at Don. "Though under the circumstances, I can see why it's hard to pay attention. We're all a little distracted."

Charlie's eyes widened as he followed his father's gaze. He spoke, more to himself than to the others. "We knew they shot Don as a distraction in the museum, but it's also distracting us -- me -- from the real evidence. It's affecting my ability to concentrate on the real questions. I've been distracted from the very beginning. This thing with my students complaining about my consulting..." He gave Don's hand a squeeze and stood. "Here, Dad. You can sit here."

"You leaving again?"

"No." He picked up his briefcase. "I'll be here, but I'll be working." He glanced at Amita. "I'll take you home first."

"That's okay. I want to help."

--

Don became aware of his surroundings slowly. For a hospital room, it was pretty quiet. He could hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. Charlie. He opened his eyes and realized the door was closed. That explained the lack of ambient noise. With minimum movement of his foggy head, he glanced around the room. His dad was asleep in the chair next to his bed, snoring gently. Amita was curled up, sound asleep, on the extra bed. Charlie sat next to Amita's bed, hunched over his laptop, tapping and mumbling to himself. "Hey, Chuck," Don said hoarsely.

Charlie jumped and turned to face Don. "Hey yourself," he whispered.

"What're you doing? Playing Freecell?"

"I wish. I'm getting back to what I was doing before they threw a handful of distractions in my way. I'm looking for connections." He looked at Don. "They knew. They knew from the very beginning that you and I would be involved in this case."

Don pushed the button to raise the head of his bed. "How'd they know my team would get this case?"

"I have no idea. But they had to have known. Why else would they start making trouble for me at school? I keep finding connections between the students who filed the complaint and our art thieves. I just never made that connection in my head. I was too distracted."

"Crap, that's crazy. You know what that means?"

"Someone inside the FBI is involved?"

"Oh, God, Charlie," Don moaned, rubbing his face.

"Don?" Alan sat up straight. "What's wrong? Should I call the nurse?"

"No, Dad. The nurse can't help with this. Charlie..."

"Charlie, are you bothering your brother again?"

"No," Don interrupted. "It's fine, Dad. It's this case. Charlie just found something we all should have seen from the beginning. Someone in the FBI might be involved in these thefts."

"How do you figure that?" Alan said, glancing from son to son.

Charlie sighed. "I've established that my students are connected to the art thieves. Why would they choose now to file complaints against me? At the same time they start their thefts?"

"There's got to be another explanation," Alan said, standing and stretching. "Maybe it's a coincidence."

"I've been at this for five hours, and I haven't found another explanation." Charlie looked at Alan, his eyes dull with fatigue. "I hope you can help me see what I'm missing."

"Get some sleep," Alan said gently, sitting back down. "You're at your wits' end. No wonder you can't see the explanation."

"Dad," Don said, "I think Charlie's right. If he was more awake, he'd be able to tell you the odds against this being a coincidence. I need to talk to David and warn him. If someone in the office is involved, it could get even more dangerous."

"More dangerous than you getting shot?" Alan asked.

"Yeah. I'm alive. They put me out of commission temporarily, but the rest of the team is still involved in this case. They've got to know what they're up against. What time is it?"

Alan checked his watch. "Six thirty. Too early to call David. Why don't you wait at least until eight?"

Don had his cell phone open and was already dialing. "If I can be up at six thirty, so can he," he said with a grin. "Hey, David, did I wake you up?... No? That's good. Dad thought it was too early to call you... Well, good, I trained you well... Listen, Charlie came up with something, and I think he's right... Yeah, for once..." Don glanced at Charlie. "Just kidding, Chuck. Anyway, we think it's too much of a coincidence that the students who've been making his life hell for the past few days are tied in with our thieves. The question is, how did they know that Charlie would be involved in this case?... Yeah, crap is right..." Don listened for a few moments, nodding. "Yeah... good idea... okay, I'll talk to you later... Thanks, yeah, I do feel better. I should be eating real food sometime today... Thanks. Yeah, tell 'em I said hi." He closed his phone. "He agrees with us, Charlie. He's going to start poking around."

"Good," Charlie said, not looking up from his computer. "There's something else..."

Don leaned back and sighed. "Before breakfast?"

Charlie looked up and blinked. "I'm sorry. You're right. It'll keep." He closed his computer and stood. "Too much coffee last night. I'll be back." He headed for the bathroom.

"Wait, Charlie," Don said, "What did you find?"

Charlie stopped. "It's more what I didn't find. The transcripts of your interviews with the skydivers were in the file, but the second interview with Avery Schaeffer was missing. He was the one who responded to the prisoner's dilemma, right? What did he tell you?"

"It wasn't there? I put it in there myself. I'll have David email you another copy. But the Readers' Digest version is that he gave me a detailed description of the woman who hired them. He also said the four of them knew ahead of time that there was no protest. And he's seen the woman since then. At Cal Sci."

"At Cal Sci? Why didn't you tell me?"

Don's brow furrowed as he thought back on the events of that day, four days earlier. "That was the night after the theft at the Getty. The first one..." his eyes widened. "That was the night you were attacked. I got your voicemail, and tried calling you, but you didn't answer. Next time I saw you, I was a little..."

"Distracted?" Charlie supplied. "That seems to be the common denominator in this case." He turned back toward the bathroom. "Let me get rid of this minor – uh – distraction, and I'll be right back."


	22. Chapter 22

Charlie returned, absentmindedly wiping his hands on his jeans. He glanced around the room. Alan and Don were talking quietly, and Amita was still sound asleep. He sat on the edge of Don's bed. "Don? I just thought of something. You said this guy – this Avery? -- he was one of the skydivers, right? What was he doing at Cal Sci to see the lady who hired them? Is he a student?"

Don picked up his cell phone and dialed. "David? Me again. Sorry to bug you again. Listen, can you check on Avery Schaeffer? You know that woman who hired the skydivers? Schaeffer said he saw her at Cal Sci. I'll have Charlie check on the woman. See if she's faculty or student, or whatever. Can you follow up with Schaeffer and see what he was doing at Cal Sci?... Thanks." Don closed his phone and shook his head. "I don't know where my brain has been through this whole crazy mixed up case."

"I know how you feel. Say, is there any way you can get me access to the personnel files from your office? Maybe I could find someone who has a connection with the thieves."

Don pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not sure, Buddy. I know those files aren't on any part of the system that I can access. Of course, with your NSA clearance..."

Charlie nodded. "Who would I call?"

"Let me think... Probably Jill Weber in Human Resources. I don't know her extension. Just call the main number and ask for her. If she can't get you access, she can at least tell you who can."

"Mmkay," Charlie said, glancing at his watch. "I guess I'll have to wait a bit until the office opens."

"Yeah. Why don't you get some sleep? Remember last night, I told you you looked like crap?"

"How could I forget? Such a lovely moment of brotherly love."

"Well, you look ten times worse right now." When Charlie averted his gaze, Don gave him a playful punch on the arm. "And don't think I don't appreciate all you're doing, Buddy. You're going above and beyond on this one. Why don't you go home, get a couple of hours sleep, and then get in touch with Jill?"

"I can stay here. I'll just go out and sleep in the lounge." He stood, fatigue evident in every movement. "Dad, would you wake me up before nine?"

"Charlie," Alan said, "you don't have to do that. Why don't you wake Amita up, and give her a ride home? Then while you're at it, stop home, take a nap, grab a shower, change your clothes..."

"You sure? I don't want to..." he stopped, glaring at Alan. "Are you saying I stink, Father?"

Alan shrugged. "Take it however you wish, my son. Let's just say if you end up having to go into this Jill Weber's office, you might make a better impression if you don't look like a ... an overworked, over fatigued consultant."

Charlie smiled as he sat on the bed next to Amita. "Thank you for not saying I look like a bum." He brushed a curl away from Amita's face. "Amita? Sweetheart? Wake up. I'm going to take you home now."

She opened her eyes. "Hi, Charlie. What's going on?"

"You fell asleep. I finished up what I was working on, and my dear Father tells me I look like a.. what was it, Dad? ... an overworked, overfatigued consultant?"

"A bum?" Amita said as she sat up. She smiled as she saw the surprised look on Charlie's face. "I woke up when you sat on the bed." She touched the fading bruise on his cheek. "You do look like you're about to pass out. Why don't you let me drive to my place? You could take your nap at my place before you drive home to change. And if you're awake long enough, you can even tell me what you found out last night."

"Sounds good to me," Charlie said, standing and helping Amita to her feet. "I probably shouldn't be driving right now anyway." He picked up his laptop and stuffed it into its bag. "Did you want me to leave this here, Dad? Or Don? I even installed a Sudoku program on it. And, of course there's Freecell and Minesweeper."

"No, thanks," Don said. "I think I'm going to take a nap after breakfast."

"Take it with you, Charlie. I may go home while Don sleeps. I don't want to be responsible for all those national secrets you've got on that thing."

Charlie nodded and picked up his computer bag. He stood, looking at Don for a moment, then said, "I'll be back soon, okay? But if you want me here for any reason, at any time, just call me and I'll drop whatever I'm doing and get over here."

"No, Charlie. You're driving yourself crazy, Buddy. You don't need to babysit me."

"It's not babysitting. I know you would be here for me, and I want to be here for you." Charlie took Amita's hand and shouldered his bag.

"You are here for me, and I appreciate it. Now, go, get some sleep."

After they had left, Don said, "Dad? What's up with Charlie?"

Alan sighed. "Too many idiots laying guilt trips on him."

"Who? Besides you, that is," Don grinned as he reached for his water.

Alan filled the cup for him and held it steady while he drank. "I guess David was kind of hard on him earlier. He told him he almost lost you today, and he should spend more time with you."

"That's harsh. No wonder Charlie's hovering like he is. I need to have a talk with him, let him know he's doing good." He gave Alan a pointed glance, "And you need to back off."

Alan sighed and nodded. "You're right, of course. I'll take it easy on him from here on in. I keep forgetting he's gone through a lot too. He told me he was listening in when you got shot."

"He was. Did you know that he was bugging me to let him come along? I convinced him to stay in the office and listen instead."

"So he could have been there..."

"No, Dad. I never would have let him do that. Never."

The door opened, and Andrea entered. "Well, good morning, Sunshine! You're up early."

Don smiled. "Yeah. That morphine is throwing off my whaddaya call it – internal rhythms?"

"It'll do that. How are you feeling?" she asked as she put the blood pressure cuff on Don's arm.

"Better. Really tired, but better."

"Any pain?"

"A little. Not bad."

"Blood pressure looks good. Let me take your temp." She put the probe under his tongue. "Okay. You have a reprieve from questions until that beeps." She turned to Alan. "Did you get any sleep, Mr. Eppes?"

"A little, and it's Alan. I'm planning on going home for a while after Don gets his next dose of knockout drops."

"Good idea," Andrea said. The thermometer beeped. "A little high, but that's to be expected. "You feeling up to breakfast, Don?"

"Any chance of bacon and eggs with a side of pancakes and maple syrup and black coffee?"

"Sounds good, but I don't think your tummy could handle that right now. How about oatmeal and a softboiled egg and tea?"

"All right, but now I know why I'm sleeping all the time. You're keeping me doped up and not letting me have my coffee."

Andrea laughed. "If you're anything like the other law enforcement officers I've seen in here, you probably have enough coffee in your system to last a normal human six months."

Alan chuckled. "She's got you there, Don."

--

Charlie woke up, confused at first. He was wearing his clothes but not his shoes. He was in bed, but not in his room, and a blanket was pulled up to his neck. Outside of the blanket, a familiar body was pressed against his back. "Amita?" He croaked.

"Shhh," she said. "Go back to sleep."

Instead, he pulled his hand out from under the covers so he could see his watch. "I need to call the FBI."

Amita propped herself on one elbow and kissed his cheek. "Okay. I'll go start some coffee. You can shower here if you'd like. It might help you wake up."

He sat up and let the covers drop, then turned and pulled her into a hug. "Thanks, that sounds great. You didn't have to carry me in here, did you?"

"No. You were mobile if not coherent. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thanks. You?" He ran his fingers down her cheek, and rubbed his thumb across her lips, then leaned forward and kissed her.

She returned the kiss and then pulled away, grinning. "Don't start what we don't have time to finish. I'll fix the coffee. There's clean towels in the bathroom. Just drop them on the floor when you're done."

"Darn," he muttered, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed the number he knew as well as his own. "Hello," he said when the FBI operator answered. "May I speak with Jill Weber in Human Resources?"

"Ms. Weber's office."

"Hi, this is Dr. Charles Eppes. May I please speak with Ms. Weber?"

"Certainly, Dr. Eppes. One moment."

"Weber," the next voice on the line said. "What can I do for you, Dr. Eppes?"

"Well, I'm consulting on the art theft case, and I need access to the personnel files from the LA office."

Jill Weber hesitated. "May I ask why?"

Charlie hadn't considered that she would ask this very natural question. "Uh, I'm afraid the fewer people who know this, the better."

"Well, Dr. Eppes, since I appear to the be lion at the gate of the information you're looking for, I suggest you add me to the list of those with a 'need to know.'"

Charlie sighed. "As part of the ongoing investigation, we need to eliminate the possibility that an employee of the LA office may have intentionally or inadvertantly leaked some information to the thieves or someone working with them."

"Whew, that is a pretty sensitive situation. In view of your security clearance, I'll expedite it for you. How and when do you want the data?'

"Can I access it via the internet?"

"No. Too much danger of hackers getting to it that way. Tell me what format you need, and I'll burn you a DVD myself. You can pick it up in an hour."

"Thank you, Ms. Weber."

"Call me Jill,... Charlie."

Charlie smiled. When he and Jill had finished working out the details, he stopped in Amita's kitchen. "I will take you up on that shower. I need to stop by the FBI office in an hour. That'll give me time to shower, have a cup of that delicious smelling coffee, and run home to change."

"Okay," she said. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take my classes today."

"That's fine. Hey," he said, taking her hand in his, "I do appreciate everything."

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

"You stayed with me through this whole ordeal. You knew I was at the end of my rope, and you let me crash here. You even drove because you knew I wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough." He kissed her cheek. "I love you."

A little over an hour later, a more presentable looking Charlie Eppes arrived at Jill Weber's office. Jill's secretary showed him into Jill's office the moment he arrived. He crossed the room, and shook hands with the tall, middle aged woman behind the desk. She smiled at him, "Well, it's nice to finally meet the legendary Professor Eppes."

Charlie returned the smile. "I don't know how legendary... but thank you."

She held onto his hand just a moment longer than necessary. "Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?"

"I'm sorry, but I really need to get your data into my program."

A look of disappointment crossed Jill's face, but she pulled a DVD from her drawer and handed it to him. "I understand. I had hoped I could get to know you a little better. I find your work for us fascinating."

"Really? Are you into math?"

"Math? Oh, no. I just have heard so much about what you do with your math. Well," She stood abruptly, "I won't keep you any longer." She reached across and shook his hand. "It's been wonderful meeting you, Charlie. Don't be a stranger."

"Uh... I won't." He held up the disk. "Thanks for your help. And if I find anything you should know, I'll... uh.. let you know."

As he entered the outer office, and closed Jill's door behind him, he met the amused gaze of her secretary. She glanced behind him, making sure the door stayed closed, and then said, "Rawr."

"Rawr?" Charlie repeated, confused.

"Ever hear the term 'cougar,' Dr. Eppes?"

"Oh," he blushed. "She told me she was the lion at the gate..."

The secretary laughed. "Close. Same family."

"I am so going to get back at Don for this," he muttered as he walked toward the elevator, slipping the disk into his computer bag.

--

Don was sound asleep by the time Charlie arrived, and their father was nowhere to be seen. Charlie set up shop on the spare bed, plugging in his laptop and spreading his files across the bed. By the time Don's lunch arrived, Charlie had imported Jill's data and had started his program looking for connections. He jumped when Don said his name. "Oh, hey, Don. How long have you been awake?"

"About thirty seconds. You?" Don said as he raised the head of his bed.

Charlie grinned. A few hours. I actually got a few hours sleep at Amita's before I met your friend Jill."

"You slept?" Don said, grinning.

"Yeah. I slept." He set his laptop on the bed and turned to face Don. "We need to talk."

"I know, Buddy, I already talked to Dad."

"Dad? About what? I wanted to talk to you about Jill Weber. Why didn't you warn me?"

Don suppressed a grin as he lifted the lid on his lunch tray, not wanting to risk meeting Charlie's eyes. "Warn you? I have no idea what you're talking about. Hey, this looks pretty good."

Charlie shook his head. "Right. Enjoy it." His computer beeped and he turned it so he could see the screen. "Hey, Don. We've got something. A guy in dispatch graduated from the high school where Agincourt teaches."

"Great. Would you call David with the particulars? Lots of people graduated from that high school. But it's worth looking into."

"All right. But if it does turn out there's something there, YOU are going to take the information to Ms. Weber."

"Aw, no, Buddy, I can't. I'll be on medical leave for at least a month. I'm afraid it's all going to be up to you."

Charlie sighed and looked back at the screen. "Maybe we'll get lucky and it'll turn out to be nothing."


	23. Chapter 23

David hung up the phone and slumped in his chair. Colby glanced up from the file he was reading. "What now?

David glanced around the bullpen. Once he was sure nobody could hear them, he rolled his chair over to where Colby sat. "You're not going to believe this, but there may be a mole in this office."

Colby's mouth dropped open, and he shook his head. When he could speak again, he said, "Who? Not on our team..."

"Charlie has come up with one name for us to check. He handed Colby a page from his notepad. "This guy in dispatch. I need you to check on him – discreetly. It may be nothing, or he may be tied in with the people who shot Don."

Colby whistled as he took the paper. "Ted Moresby? Never heard of him."

"Me either, but Charlie found out he graduated from the school where Agincourt teaches. Now, that's a pretty slim connection, but it's all he's come up with so far. And It's pretty clear that somehow the thieves knew Charlie would be involved in the case. Who better than dispatch to determine which team investigates which crime?"

"I don't know. I'll check it, but it sounds backwards to me. Why pressure Charlie to quit consulting and then make sure Don is on the case?"

"True." David started pushing his chair back toward his desk. "But right now, it's all we've got." David rolled his eyes as his cell phone rang again. "Now what?" He flipped the phone open. "Sinclair."

"David, Ben Cole here. I've heard something through the grapevine that I thought would be of interest to you. Someone is trying to shop a Van Gogh that sounds a lot like the one that was stolen from the Getty."

David flipped his notepad open. "I don't know if I want to know about your grapevine, but give me what you've got."

Ben chuckled. "Don't worry, Agent, it's on the up and up. When an important object hits the market, all of the dealers, reputable and otherwise, hear the rumors."

"And what are those rumors saying now?"

"An unidentified dealer on the west coast of the US is sending out feelers, testing the waters to see if there's a market for a high profile Van Gogh painting. Now, a few decades ago, it was relatively easy to find a market for such things. But they're becoming less and less marketable. It's rare to see something like this show up for sale. The new trend is to simply trade them from one criminal to another."

"Do you have any idea who that dealer might be?"

"I can't be certain, of course, but I do have an idea. I suggest you verify it with the local law enforcement, but check into David Heller. He's well-known to Interpol, and possibly to your own art crime division. He has a reputation for making bold moves, and selling a Van Gogh within a week of its disappearance would qualify as bold, don't you think?"

"Sure would! Sounds like he's a perfect match for the gang we're dealing with. Well, thank you for this, Ben. I'll follow up on it. You have anything else for me?"

"Afraid not. But I'll keep my ears open, and I'll let you know if I hear anything more. And, David?"

"Yes?"

"Maggie and I want you to know that we're here to give you any help you might need. Don't hesitate to call us, all right? We haven't been here long, but we've grown to regard you all as our friends."

"Thanks, Ben. You don't know how much I appreciate that."

When David finished the call, he turned to Colby. "It looks like we may have caught a break." David stood. "Let's get Liz and go to the conference room."

--

Alan shifted the bags in his arms so he could grip the doorknob to Don's room. As he opened the door, he heard a welcome sound -- both boys were laughing. "Hey, Dad," Charlie said, pushing his laptop aside and jumping to his feet. "Let me help you with that."

"Thank you." He studied Charlie's face as he handed him a bag. "You got some sleep, I hope."

"I did. How about you?" Charlie craned his neck to look in the bag. "What'd you bring? Anything good to eat?"

"No. It would be rude to eat in front of Donnie. I brought pajamas and slippers and some books and magazines to keep him occupied. Didn't you eat before you came back here?"

Don laughed. "No, Dad. He and Amita were too busy to eat."

Charlie blushed. "Actually, I had to stop at the FBI office. Unlike some people, I'm actually working on the case."

"Aw, Chuck, that's cruel! Here I am, seriously wounded, and you're trying to make me feel bad."

"Well, you deserve to feel bad. Turning that cougar loose on me without any warning..."

Alan dropped his bag onto the spare bed. "Cougar? Are you okay?"

"He's fine, Dad. 'Cougar' is a disparaging term for an older woman."

"Charlie! Haven't I taught you better manners than than?"

"As usual, Don is not telling you the whole story. A 'cougar' is an older woman obsessed with younger men. This particular older woman had a disk I needed, and she gave the definite impression that she was interested in more than my mind. And your son sent me to get the information from her knowing full well..."

"I did not know she would find him attractive. She normally exhibits much better taste."

"Boys! Enough! Don, did you intentionally put your brother in an uncomfortable situation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Charlie, did you survive?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I suggest you both drop it. And, Charlie, if you need to see this... cougar... again, I suggest you take Amita with you. Now, give Donnie his pajamas."

Charlie handed Don the bag. "Good idea, Dad. And since I found at least one FBI employee that David needs to check, it sounds like a good possibility that someone is going to have to visit the woman."

Alan turned from emptying his bag. "'Did you say an FBI employee? You think someone in the FBI was involved in this?"

"It's a possibility," Don said. "It looks like the thieves were putting pressure on Charlie before the first theft. They wanted to get him off the case or keep him distracted enough that he wouldn't be effective. But what difference would it make if my team wasn't assigned to the case?"

"Good point. Do you think Charlie might still be in danger?"

Don and Charlie exchanged glances. "Possibly," Don finally admitted. "Unless we can make it appear that he's off the case."

"But if they have someone inside the FBI, won't they know?"

"So our only option is to take him off the case," Don said softly.

"No," Charlie said. "Find another option."

"Charlie," Alan started.

"Dad," Don interrupted, "haven't you learned by now that Charlie's going to do what he wants to do, no matter what anybody says?"

"He gets that from your mother," Alan said. "I was never that stubborn."

--

While Don dozed, Alan pulled out his briefcase and worked on a presentation for a potential new client. And Charlie stared at the folders surrounding him on the spare bed.

The door opened, and Liz peeked into the room. "Hi," she whispered.

Charlie looked up and gave Liz a smile. "Hey," he said.

Alan stood, smiling, "Liz," he said softly, "Come on in."

"Thanks," Liz said, walking to Don's side. "How is he?"

"A lot better. He still sleeps a lot, though. How are you holding up?"

Liz shrugged. "Okay, I guess. How about you and Charlie?"

"We're okay. Charlie's been muttering over those files for a while now. It does not sound encouraging."

"It's not," Charlie said, waving a hand at the scattered folders. "I've been at this for almost a week, and every time I turn around, there are even more questions." He looked hopefully at Liz, "Did you bring me more data?"

"Sorry, no. But Colby and I are on the way to talk to Fred Agincourt."

"Really? Where is Colby?"

"He was on the phone with David, getting some last minute instructions. He should be here in a minute."

"Do you think I could go with you?" Charlie said, pushing his laptop aside.

"Charlie," Alan said, "you are not an agent. I don't think Colby and Liz need you tagging along."

"Dad," Charlie stood, "I'm not a kid..."

"Wait," Liz said, "Alan, I think having Charlie along would be a good idea. He is a teacher. He might have some insights Colby and I wouldn't have. I, uh, well, part of the reason we stopped by was to see if Charlie would come with us."

Alan did not look convinced, but before he could say anything, Don stirred. "Dad?" he murmured, "What's going on?"

"Liz is here to see how you're doing."

Don opened his eyes and grinned sleepily. "Hey, Liz. How's it going?"

"Not bad. But I can't figure out why you're getting to sleep all day while the rest of us are doing all the work."

Alan stood, both hands pressed to the small of his back, and stretched. "Liz, are you going to be here for a few minutes?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I thought Charlie and I would go find some coffee."

"No problem. I'll wait until you get back. Remember, I need to take Charlie with me," Liz said, sitting in the chair Alan had just vacated. "I'll keep your seat warm for you."

When they were alone, Liz took Don's hand in hers and leaned down to kiss his cheek. Don turned suddenly so she connected with his lips instead. Surprised, she tried to pull back, but he reached up and held her in place. After a long, loving kiss, he released her. "Sorry," he murmured, "I..."

"Hey," Colby's voice came from the doorway. "Oh. Oops. Sorry."

Liz straightened. "Granger! Has anybody ever told you you have great timing?"

"I have great timing?"

"No," Liz and Don said in unison.

"I can go," Colby said, backing into the corridor.

"No," Don said, squeezing Liz's hand. "Stay. Dad and Charlie are going to be back in a few minutes anyway." Don raised the head of his bed. "So, how's the investigation going?"

Colby shrugged. "It's going. It looks like you're feeling better. Unless Agent Warner is just practicing her CPR."

Don shook his head, grinning. "I'm feeling much better, thank you. So, listen, before Dad gets back and puts a stop to it, why don't you fill me in on what's going on with the case?"

"Well, Liz and I are on the way to see Fred Agincourt. We thought we'd bring the Whiz Kid along because he understands teachers a lot better than either of us does."

"Was that what Dad was complaining about when I woke up?"

Liz laughed. "Yeah. He wasn't too thrilled when Charlie asked if he could join us."

Don sighed. "I can understand where he's coming from, Liz. We're dealing with dangerous people here."

Liz leaned forward, the smile leaving her face. "I know they're dangerous. But you know, Charlie was hurt on campus. And he was shot at while driving home from school. It sounds to me like he'll be safer with us than he would be on his own at Cal Sci." She stood and walked to the window, turning her back on Don.

"Liz?" Don said softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you would put Charlie at risk."

"No?" She turned to face him. "What did you mean to imply?"

"I'm worried, Liz. I don't know what these guys are going to do next. If the Agincourts are involved in this, and I'm almost positive they are, going to see Fred could stir up a hornets' nest. Now," he said, "how are you going to approach Fred Agincourt?"

"Well," Colby said, "we made an appointment to see him at school. He has elected not to have a lawyer present, but he reserves the right to stop the interview at any time. We agreed that Liz would take the lead. She's less threatening – well she looks less threatening anyway."

Don smiled at Liz, "And we know appearances can be deceiving." He held out his hand toward her. "Come on and sit."

She at on the edge of Don's bed. "I was planning on asking him about Ellen Davis; try to get a feel for how he got along with her. Ask him if he knew anyone with a reason to want to hurt her. The papers have already connected her murder with the thefts, so I'm not going to be able to shock him with the news."

"Too bad," Don murmured. "I like your plan." He took her hand. "Listen, you're a good agent, Liz. I trust you to take care of Charlie, and you didn't do anything in that gallery that any of us wouldn't have done." He looked to Colby for confirmation.

Colby put a hand on Liz's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "He's right, Liz."

"What you two have very carefully left unsaid is that I shouldn't be on a team with someone I'm in... involved with. And once your team is back up to full strength, I'll be going back to my own team. Of course," she smiled at Don, "I'm based in LA now, so it's not like we won't be seeing each other at work."

"And outside of work," Don said, bringing her hand to his lips, "we'll be doing a lot more than seeing each other."

Colby rolled his eyes, "Oh, man. If you guys are going to get all huggy body kissy face on me, I'm going to go find Alan and Charlie."


	24. Chapter 24

Charlie wasn't sure what he expected Fred Agincourt to look like, but it certainly wasn't this. The man who met the three of them in the principal's office was tall and movie star handsome. He smiled in greeting, and yet still conveyed a grim seriousness appropriate to the discussion of murder. "Agent," he said as he extended his hand to Liz. "I was shocked to hear about poor Ellen. Please, tell me what I can do to help your investigation."

"Mr. Agincourt," Liz said, "I'm Special Agent Warner. This is Special Agent Granger. And this is Dr. Eppes, one of our consultants. He's just here to observe."

Agincourt's brow furrowed. "Observe? I don't understand."

"Let's have a seat." When they were seated, Liz continued. "Dr. Eppes is consulting with us on a case that Ellen Davis was involved in."

Agincourt nodded. "The stolen painting from the Norton Simon Museum, right?" He glanced at Charlie. "Dr. Eppes? Charles Eppes, the mathematician, right?"

"Right," Charlie said.

"Well, this is an unexpected honor, Dr. Eppes. Math is my first love, actually. I try to keep up to date on your work. It's unfortunate that you're wasting your considerable talents working with law enforcement."

Charlie smiled. "I don't consider it a waste of my talents. But we're not here to discuss my extracurricular activities." He turned to Liz, "Agent Warner."

"Thanks, Dr. Eppes. Mr. Agincourt, how well did you know Ellen Davis?"

"Please, call me Fred. Ellen and I worked together here, and she assisted me with an after school group I started a few years ago."

"What group was that?"

"We call it Career Kids. It's kind of like Junior Achievement. We teach the kids about different career opportunities and eventually we'll have them start a small business of their own. I am of the belief that the majority of people fall into a career with little or no advance planning. I want to help these kids take some control over their lives."

"Sounds like an interesting program. How do the kids respond?"

Agincourt chuckled. "The same way kids respond when you try to teach them anything. They wiggle and squirm and keep watching the clock. So I decided to make it a little more interesting for them. We started bringing in speakers, and I've created some real life business problems for them to solve."

"And you got Ellen Davis to help you keep the kids in line?"

"I see someone's been talking to my coworkers. I have a reputation for being a bit lenient with the kids. Some of the other teachers with after school programs were complaining about the noise."

Liz nodded and opened her notepad. "Mr. Agincourt, do you know a Ted Moresby?"

"Moresby?" Agincourt gnawed his lip as he gazed up at the ceiling. "Moresby? I don't believe so. In what context? If I may ask."

"He was a student here a few years back."

"In my class? I don't remember him. How many years ago?"

"It's not important," Liz said. "Did you and Ellen Davis get along well?"

"Yes, we did, as a matter of fact. Ellen was a sweet girl. I can't think of anybody who disliked her. They said her body was found in a fast food place parking lot. Is it possible it was just a mugging that went bad?"

"Anything's possible. How long have you known her?"

"I believe it's been five years. But she only started working with the Career Kids this semester."

"Do you know her husband?"

"I've met him at faculty events, but I don't really know him. They were a cute couple."

"How close are you to your brother?"

"Frank? We're twins. You can't get much closer than that."

"Is he involved in the Career Kids group?"

"Not really. He teaches high school, and he has his own commitments over there."

"Not really?" Liz asked. "'Not really' is the next best thing to 'yes.'"

"All right. He helps, but not officially. Why?"

"What does he do for the group?"

Agincourt shrugged. "He and I brainstorm ideas. He also seems to have established a good relationship with a couple of the more difficult kids. He's really good with kids."

"I'll need the names of the kids in the group, Mr. Agincourt," Liz said.

For the first time, Agincourt seemed shaken. "I don't think I should do that unless you have a warrant, Agent. In fact," he glanced at his watch, "I really need to get back to my class. Perhaps we can pick this up again after I've consulted with my lawyer." He stood and walked to the door.

"Mr. Agincourt," Liz said, standing.

"Are you arresting me, Agent Warner?"

"I wasn't planning on it. Why? Should I?"

Agincourt snorted and left the room.

Colby turned to Liz. "Well that went well."

"Actually, it did," Liz said. "We know both brothers are involved in this Career Kids group. We know ol' Fred here doesn't want us to know the kids' names."

Charlie shook his head. "He could just be worried about the kids' privacy rights. The courts have been pretty strict about privacy, especially for children."

"Understandably so," Liz said. "But I think we have enough to get our warrant."

"I hope so," Colby said. "Of course, we still have one more Agincourt we can talk to."

"True," Liz said. "Of course, if Fred contacts Francis before we do, we don't stand much chance of meeting Francis without his lawyer." She led the way from the office and thanked the principal's secretary.

When they reached the car, Colby said, "So, Charlie, what did you think of Fred? I mean, as a teacher?"

"He seems like the real thing. He honestly seems to enjoy his students, and he is enthusiastic about this career thing. But I don't know if he's right about people falling into a career. I mean, my course was pretty much set for me from the time I was a preschooler."

Liz grinned as she pulled out of the parking lot. "You're an exceptional case, Charlie. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. Most of us go through years of schooling and several failed jobs before settling on the career we're going to live with. I mean, look at Don. He was a professional baseball player. I'm guessing he didn't spend a lot of time in advance placement math and science classes."

Charlie chuckled. "You're right there. Not that he was dumb, by any stretch of the imagination. He could have done the advanced work. He just wanted to concentrate on what he figured was going to be his career. How about you, Liz? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Both of you guys, if you breathe a word of this to anybody, I will take you down. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," both men said.

"I wanted to be a ballerina. Don't laugh!"

Charlie was quick to reply, "I wasn't laughing. Were you, Colby?"

"Not at all. Listen, Liz, you've got the build of a ballerina. Seriously."

"Okay. You guys are safe, for now."

"What changed your mind," Charlie asked.

Liz shrugged. "I wasn't enough of a girly girl, I guess. My instructor said I was talented, athletic, I could do all the moves, you know? But it was mechanical. There was no flow, no... poetry... in my movements. So I decided to go the way of sports. And when career day came along, there was this really cute FBI agent at their informational table, and the rest is history."

"So what Agincourt said makes sense to you."

"Yeah, it does. All right, Colby, now we need your deep, dark secret."

Colby laughed. "There's nothing deep and dark about me. I grew up wanting to be GI Joe. Then I found I was good at the investigation end of things, and here I am. GI Joe in a suit."

"This has been very interesting." Charlie tapped his temple. "I wonder how much of this is programmed into our brains from outside and how much is generated in here."

"Right now, we just need to know who's programming kids to steal," Liz said. "Save the rest for your cognition... cognitive..."

"Cognitive emergence," Charlie said, smiling. "One of these days, you'll pick up on my jargon just as I'm picking up on yours."

"Hell no," Colby muttered. "Who needs a GI Joe who talks like Einstein?"

--

David rubbed his eyes after he said goodbye to Liz. Now he had another item for his "to do" list – get a warrant. After he made the calls necessary to get that rolling, he went back to checking the background of Ted Moresby. Ted did indeed graduate the high school where Francis Agincourt taught. In fact, Francis was something of a mentor to him. Since Liz, Colby and Charlie were heading to see Francis, they could ask Francis about Ted while David asked Ted about Francis.

Learning the fine art of delegation under fire, David had called Jack Tollner of the art crimes unit and had him follow up on Ben's information about the Van Gogh. Jack promised to take over that aspect of the investigation, much to David's relief.

David picked up the phone and called dispatch and reached Ted Moresby. "Ted, this is David Sinclair on the sixth floor. Could you come up? I need some information for an investigation I'm working on."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Ted said. "Which case?"

David had been ready for that question. "Nothing big, really. I just needed some background on how you guys operate in dispatch, and I was told you would be the man to ask."

"Cool. I'd be happy to help you, Agent Sinclair. Give me two minutes to get someone to cover for me, and I'll be right up."

Possessing a suspicious nature had served David well over the years. Five minutes after he had hung up with Moresby, he received a call from the security guard at the front desk. "Agent Sinclair? You were right about Moresby. He was on the way out the front door. You want to come down and get him?"

A few minutes later, David brought his quarry into the conference room. "Have a seat. Would you like some coffee, Ted?"

"No thanks. I'm good. Now what is this really about, Agent Sinclair?" Moresby said, sinking into a chair across the table from David.

David paced. "Why don't you tell me why you felt the need to take off instead of coming up to see me?"

"Am I under arrest?"

David sat and leaned across the table. "If you'd like. How's accessory to attempted murder of a federal agent sound for starters?"

"What? Man, what the hell?"

"Do you know Francis Agincourt?"

"Mr. Agincourt? Yeah, he was one of my high school teachers. Why?"

"Are you still in contact with him?"

"Yeah, but the last I heard that wasn't against the law."

"It isn't. Why did you send our team to handle the theft at the Norton Simon Museum?"

"I... what makes you think it was me?"

"Lucky guess. Confirmed by the dispatch records. Did Agincourt ask you to do that?"

"What? No! Why would he do something like that? Why would he care which team handles a case?" Ted stood and turned toward the door.

"Why were you running, Ted?"

"Running? I ... I had to get something from my car."

"You're not a very good liar, Ted. My team is on the way to talk to Agincourt now. I've asked them to mention your name to your old mentor. It'll be interesting to see what he has to say about your relationship. Sit down."

Ted returned to his seat. "Listen, I don't know what you think Mr. Agincourt is involved in, but whatever it is, I had nothing to do with it."

"You listen, Moresby. You're up to your eyeballs in theft, murder, assault and attempted murder. You can make things a whole lot easier on yourself if you tell me everything."

Ted shook his head. "Sorry. That's not going to happen." He stood again, and took a step toward the door. "Unless you're putting me under arrest, I'm leaving"

David sighed. "Ted Moresby, you have the right to remain silent..."

--

Liz showed her badge to the receptionist in the high school office. "I need to speak with Mr. Francis Agincourt."

The receptionist glanced nervously around. "He's in class now. I'm going to call the principal. She'll be able to help you."

Liz sighed and nodded. "All right. But make it quick, okay?"

The receptionist nodded as she picked up the phone. "Ms. Morrow. There are some people here to see Mr. Agincourt... They're law enforcement... FBI. All right." She hung up the phone. "Please follow me."

Sylvia Morrow looked up from her computer as they entered. "Officers, what is going on here? Why are you in my school asking to see one of my teachers."

Liz and Colby produced their badges. "I'm Special Agent Warner. This is Special Agent Granger and Dr. Eppes, one of our consultants. It is imperative that we speak with Francis Agincourt immediately."

"What is this about?"

"Immediately," Liz repeated softly.

Ms. Morrow pursed her lips and picked up the phone. "Cindy, please have Mr. Agincourt report to my office immediately... I know he's in class... So go down there yourself and babysit his class until he gets back." She hung up the phone. "He will be here as soon as possible. Now, please tell me what this is about."

"It's about murder, Ms. Morrow. That's all you need to know."

Francis Agincourt was slightly shorter than his brother. His hair was cut differently, and the suit he wore was a little less stylish than his brother's. But he had the same grim serious smile. Liz detected a touch of fear in that smile and wondered if Fred had managed to contact him. She showed him her badge. "Mr. Agincourt, I'm Special Agent Warner. This is Special Agent Granger and Dr. Eppes. We'd like to have a word with you..." she turned to Ms. Morrow, "... in private, please."

Ms. Morrow huffed and stood. "Of course, Special Agent. I'll wait for you in the hallway, if that's all right with you."

Liz smiled, "Of course. Thank you." Liz sat in the seat the principal had vacated, and waved for the others to find seats. "Now, Mr. Agincourt, we've just come from seeing your brother. I understand you've been helping him out with his Career Kids group."

"Why, yes, I have. We're both teachers. It makes sense, don't you think?"

"Of course. How long have you been teaching, Mr. Agincourt?"

"Fifteen years. Sometimes it seems like just yesterday. Other times it seems like it's been forever. Why?"

"You've influenced a lot of kids in those fifteen years."

Agincourt smiled, "Yes, I have. That's what makes it all worthwhile."

"Do you remember Ted Moresby?"

Agincourt's smile froze. "Yes."

"I understand you're still in contact with Ted. Were you aware he works for the FBI?"

"Of course. I maintain contact with a lot of my students. When Ted was a kid, I was able to help him with some problems he was having. Since he stayed in the area, we've kept in contact. Why? Is there a problem?"

"Why did you buy one hundred tickets for kids in wheelchairs to attend the art show at the Hammer?"

"Fred and I are both active in groups that help kids with disabilities. I am fortunate enough to have saved up some money over the years, and I thought it would be a nice thing to do. Why?"

"Do you follow the news at all, Mr. Agincourt?"

"When I have time. Why?"

"Surely you're aware of the previous two thefts involving children in wheelchairs."

Agincourt leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "So now we're going to further handicap these poor unfortunate children because two of them..."

"Three," Liz corrected coldly.

"Three of them have been used in the commission of a crime. Why aren't you trying to find the adults involved instead of harassing the children?"

"We have not harassed a single child, Mr. Agincourt. I want the names of the children you and your brother have mentored," she said the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.

"In a combined twenty-seven years of mentoring, we have worked with thousands of children."

"Then you'd better start working on that list."


	25. Chapter 25

Jack Tollner sounded very excited when he called David. "I think we've got your dealer," he said. "He's located in Santa Monica, and he appears to be on the up and up. He knew about the theft, so he insisted on a face to face meeting with the seller. He met the seller, who refused to show him the painting, so he just assumed it was a hoax. He asked several acquaintances if they had been approached, so that's where the rumors got started. And, the good news is that he will be thrilled to meet with your agents and give them a description of the supposed seller."

"Wow," David said, "that was fast."

"Hey, we aim to please. Is Megan involved in this case? I picked up a bow tie just for her."

"Nah, she's off on special assignment."

"Too bad. Here's the information on the dealer," Jack gave David the name, address and phone number of Grant Catalino. "I gave him your name, and he's waiting for your call," he added. "You think you're going to need me to come out?"

"Thanks, Jack, but I think we can handle it. You've got the information on the other objects that were stolen, right?"

"Yep. I've notified all the appropriate agencies, and I'll keep an ear out for any more rumors. You know it's unlikely the thieves will try to sell objects this well known, right?"

"I know. We've got an art professor consulting with us now, and he told us about that."

Jack laughed. "You guys seem to like working with professors. Do you mind my asking who your art guy is? He might be someone I know."

"No problem. His name is Bennington Cole. His wife, Maggie has worked with us too."

Jack whistled. "You've got yourself a good one there, David. I've worked with him before. Never worked with Maggie, but I met her a couple of times. If you've got Ben on your team, your office won't need to pay for me to fly out."

"Yeah, we were pretty happy with them after that Manet theft."

"That's right! You guys ended up solving the Gardner burglary. Maybe we should swap jobs – I'll handle LA and let your team handle art."

"No, thanks," David chuckled. "I think we're all happy right where we are."

"Okay, I've gotta run. Call me if you need anything else, and tell Don I hope he gets better soon."

David placed a quick call to Liz, determined that she and Colby would be busy for a while, and decided to call Ben Cole.

"David, how's everything going?"

"Hectic. How about you?"

"It's actually pretty peaceful around here right now. What can I do for you?"

David told Ben about Jack's call. "I was wondering if you would come along with me to interview Catalino."

"Santa Monica, you say? I'm on campus now, so why don't I drive down to your office? It'll save you doubling back after picking me up."

When David came down to the lobby to meet Ben, he said, "Thanks for helping me out with this. And thanks for driving into the city. You're beginning to know your way around here."

"Sadly, it's just in time for us to go back to Syracuse."

"That's too bad. You've been a lot of help here." He led the way to his car. "I'll drive. Did you get a decent parking spot?"

"I parked in the lot down the street. I can't believe the price of parking around here."

"Well, just turn in your receipts." David unlocked the doors of his SUV. "I take it parking's a little cheaper in Syracuse."

Ben chuckled. "Definitely. You can park there all day for what it costs to park here for an hour."

It was almost sunset when they arrived at Santa Monica. "I do hope we'll be near the ocean," Ben said.

"Unfortunately, no. Catalino's gallery is in the Third Street Promenade. Don't tell me you haven't seen enough sunsets over the Pacific."

"You're from the east, right, David? Have you seen enough sunsets over the Pacific yet?"

David chuckled. "You have a point there. Listen, why don't we swing past the beach first?"

David found a spot overlooking the beach, and the two easterners watched yet another impressive sunset. "So," David said, "When do you and Maggie head back home?"

"We've got another couple of weeks before the semester ends, but then we're driving back home."

"Long drive."

"Remember, I grew up on an island twice the size of New York State, so I'm still overwhelmed by the size of this country. There's so much to see here. Such wide open spaces."

"True. I worked in Tel Aviv for a while, and I couldn't get over how small a country Israel is. Well," David said, turning the key, "looks like we've seen our sunset. Ready to go talk to an art dealer?"

Grant Catalino's gallery was a small storefront along Third Street. There was a "Closed" sign in the window, but the lights were still on. David tried the door. It was locked. He pressed the buzzer next to the door and held up his badge. A small, round man hurried to unlock the door. He studied David's badge before opening the door. "Agent Sinclair? Please come in. I'm Grant Catalino." He nodded to Ben as he pulled the door shut and locked it. "Hello."

David said, "This is Dr. Bennington Cole. He's a consultant on this case."

"Dr. Cole," Grant smiled and shook Ben's hand. "it's an honor to meet you. I attended one of your lectures a couple of weeks ago. It was fascinating to hear about the techniques the FBI used to solve the Gardner burglary. Would you gentlemen like some tea or coffee?" He led the way to an office at the back of the gallery. "I have both. I knew you were coming, so I didn't turn anything off." He waved a hand at an expensive leather couch. "Why don't you have a seat there. I'll be right back with the coffee. Heaven only knows I need it, even if you don't."

David chuckled. "Tea would be good, if it's no trouble."

"No trouble at all. Dr. Cole, how about you?"

"Tea would be fine, thank you."

Once Grant had brought a carafe of hot water, two cups and a basket of tea bags, he settled down with his own mug of hot, black coffee. "Agent Tollner called me about the Van Gogh. He must have some good contacts among the art dealers. I only mentioned it to three or four people."

David nodded, "And those three or four mentioned it to three or four others..."

Grant laughed. "Ah, yes, you must be familiar with the art world, Agent Sinclair."

"Not really. Just familiar with social networks. Can you describe the person who was looking to sell the Van Gogh?"

"As I told Agent Tollner, I didn't believe the man really had the Van Gogh. Otherwise, I would have contacted the FBI immediately."

"Of course," David said, pulling a notebook from his pocket.

"He was tall, very nice looking. I would say he was 6'-2" or 6'-3" tall, athletic build. Dark hair. Eyes... light colored, I believe. Very well spoken."

"Did he give a name?"

Grant shrugged. "Bill Evans. I assumed it was a pseudonym."

"You're probably right." David pulled two photographs from his pocket and handed them to Grant. "Do either of these look like him?"

Grant took the photos and studied them, nodding. "Yes. That's him."

"Which one?"

"Aren't they the same man?"

"They're twins."

"Well, it was definitely one of them, but I have no idea which one."

"Ben," David said, taking the photos back, "do you have any questions?"

"Mr, Catalino..."

"Please, call me Grant."

"Grant, how did he contact you?"

"He called and asked if I were interested in a Van Gogh. He described it, and I had a feeling he was talking about the painting stolen from the Norton Simon. So, I told him we really shouldn't discuss it over the phone, and suggested he come here."

"How'd he react to that?" Ben asked.

"He was reluctant, but I was finally able to convince him it would be best for both of us if we handled it my way. Unfortunately, he didn't bring the painting with him. He had a photograph. It looked like it had been downloaded from the Art Loss Register website and printed on his computer. I told him I would need to see the painting and he said, 'That won't be possible at this time.' And he got up and left."

"And when did this happen?" David asked.

"He called me Monday morning, and we met Monday afternoon."

"And I'm guessing you've cleaned in here since then."

"Of course," Grant said, "unfortunately. He did leave the photograph here. I'm afraid I handled it, but it's in my recycling bin. Would you like it?"

"Yes, please," David said, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket.

Grant reached under the desk and pulled out a blue bin. He flipped through the papers until he found the printout. He picked it up gingerly by the corners and slipped it into the bag. "Will I need to be fingerprinted? I'm a notary, so my fingerprints are already on file with the state."

"I believe that should be sufficient," David said, sealing the bag. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Catalino. I'll be in touch if we need anything else." He stood and shook hands with the dealer.

"I hope I was able to be of some assistance, Agent," Grant and Ben stood and shook hands. "And, Dr. Cole, it's been an honor to meet you."

--

Liz's cell phone rang and she glanced at the screen. "Excuse me. I need to take this."

She stepped into the hallway and flipped her phone open.

Ms. Morrow stood across from the office door, leaning against the wall. "May I have my office back, Agent Warner?"

"Not yet. Yeah, David. What's up?" She listened while David filled her in on the interviews with Moresby and Catalino. "Any word on the fingerprints yet?"

"Ben and I are just leaving Santa Monica now. It'll be a while."

"Santa Monica? That's where the dealer is? Listen, we're with Francis Agincourt now. What do you want us to do?"

David sighed. "You might as well continue with what you're doing and wrap it up. We'll know where to find whichever brother it ends up being."

"Okay. I think we're about done here anyway. I have to drop Charlie off at the hospital, and then we'll head in."

"All right. Did you get anything from either Agincourt?"

"Not much of any use. I can't really discuss it right now," she gave Ms. Morrow a pointed glance.

"Sounds like you've got someone eavesdropping. I'll see you back at the office."

Charlie and Colby looked up when Liz opened the door. Agincourt was reading a magazine. "Done with that list?" Liz asked as she closed the door behind her.

"No," Agincourt said, not looking up from the magazine. "You'll have to get a warrant for that information, Agent Warner."

"Fine," Liz said. Meeting Colby's gaze, she said, "David's on the way back to the office with some very interesting fingerprints." Turning again to Agincourt, she said, "We're done for now."

Colby and Charlie stood and followed Liz. As they passed Ms. Morrow, Liz said, "NOW you can have your office back. Thank you for your help."

When they reached Liz's SUV, Charlie said, "What was that all about?"

Liz grinned, "David and Ben Cole are on their way back from Santa Monica, where an art dealer told them a very interesting story about a man with a Van Gogh to sell."

"Really?" Colby said. "And who was this man with the Van Gogh?"

Liz pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway. "Well, he couldn't be sure. The dealer gave a description, and when David showed him the photos of the Agincourt brothers, he was sure it was one of them."

"Of course," Charlie said from the back seat, "they're twins, so it would be hard for an eyewitness to know which one he had seen."

"Right, but luckily David has the photograph our mystery man brought to the dealer. He thought he was being smart by not bringing the original with him."

Colby glanced back at Charlie. "I hear you're not a big fan of fingerprints, Charlie."

Charlie shrugged. "Well, they can be useful, but I'm not convinced a partial print is a foolproof form of identification. Hopefully David's got more than a partial."

"We'll see," Liz said. "Charlie, I'm going to drop you off at the hospital, okay?"

"That's out of your way," he said. "Why don't I just come with you?"

"There's no telling how long we'll be tied up with this, and your car is at the hospital."

Charlie reluctantly agreed and pulled his laptop out of its case. He was tinkering with his program when Liz's phone rang.

"Warner," she said.

"Agent Warner, this is Fred Agincourt. We need to talk."

"Mr. Agincourt," Liz said, "I'm in my car. I'm going to put you on speaker." She pressed the "telephone" button on the steering wheel. "Okay, now what did you need?"

Agincourt's voice filled the SUV, "I just got a call from Frank. I... I think he's involved in this whole art theft thing. He might even be involved in Ellen's death."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm in my car, heading home from school. This is really troubling, Agent. It never occurred to me that Frank could be involved in anything like this."

"How far are you from home? We can meet you there, if that's convenient for you."

"I only live about half an hour from school." He gave her the address.

Charlie opened Mapquest, but Liz's GPS was faster. "Got it," she said. "We'll meet you there in forty five minutes, or so, depending on traffic."

"Mr. Agincourt," Colby said, "Do you have any reason to believe you're in any danger?"

"No! No, of course not. Why would I be in danger?"

"Tell us about your conversation with your brother," Liz said as the GPS system gave her the first directions to Fred's house.

"Well, he told me he had just finished talking to you. He was furious. I thought it was just because you wanted the kids' names. But he told me I needed to help him or he'd take me down with him."

"Help him how?" Colby asked.

"I'm not sure. He sounded like he was in a hurry. So I just told him I'd do whatever I could to help."

Liz swerved to avoid a delivery truck. "You said he was in a hurry. Do you know where he is now?"

"He said he had to run to Santa Monica to take care of something, but that he'd meet me at my house after that."

Colby pulled out his cell phone. "I'll let David know."

"Why?" Agincourt asked. "What's going on?"

"It's probably nothing, Mr. Agincourt," Liz said, "Just something we need to follow up on. Listen, maybe you'd better not go to your house. Is there someplace public we can meet?"

"Am I in danger?"

"I don't know, but wouldn't you rather not take any chances?"

Agincourt sighed. "You're near Frank's school, right? Why don't we meet there? I can be there in fifteen minutes."

"Sounds good. We'll see you there. You call me immediately if anything seems wrong. Anything!"

"I will. And thank you."

Liz pushed the button to disconnect the call, and glanced at Colby. "What did David say?"

David flipped his phone shut. "Sorry, Ben. Change of plans. It looks like Grant Catalino might be in trouble.. We've got to go back." David turned the car around and then opened his phone again and dialed. "This is David Sinclair. We have reason to believe a witness may be in danger. Please send a team to the Catalino Gallery in Santa Monica immediately."

His next call was to Grant Catalino.

"Good evening, this is Catalino Gallery. We're closed..."

"Mr. Catalino, this is David Sinclair."

"I am really sorry, ma'am, but we are closed until ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"We're on the way. Hold tight," David said.

"Goodnight, ma'am."

David hung up. "Damn," he murmured.


	26. Chapter 26

Alan had brought a deck of cards, and he and Don were in the middle of their third game of gin rummy. Don smiled as Alan checked his watch. "And people complain about me," he said.

"What? Oh," Alan said, looking at his cards. "You brother has been gone a long time."

"Why don't you call him?"

"Nah. I don't want to be a nag. He'll be here when he gets here. I just hope he's getting some supper along the way."

"Speaking of which, mine should be here soon."

"You getting hungry? That's a good sign."

"Yeah. Maybe supper will be something more exciting than oatmeal."

Alan chuckled. "Lunch seemed to sit okay with you, so maybe they'll spice things up for you a bit. Maybe put some cinnamon on your oatmeal."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? After all these years of me mooching off you and Charlie..."

"What I'm enjoying is you feeling well enough to take a joke, Donnie. You gave us quite a scare."

"I know. I gave me quite a scare too. "When I saw that kid moving out of the corner of my eye and realized she had a gun..." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Alan put a hand on top of Don's hand. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

Don opened his eyes and gave his father a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I'm already seeing a shrink. This'll give him something else to work on." The smile faded. "Charlie and I talked about it. You expect kids to be innocent. But the look in her eyes... she... had no hesitation, you know? It was like shooting a human being was the most natural thing in the world."

"Donnie, don't dwell on it."

"It's kind of hard not to, Dad. As soon as they let me out of here, I'll call Dr. Bradford and set up an appointment to discuss this. I've got to make sure this isn't going to make me less effective in the field. You know? Hesitating when I should act, or acting when I should wait, just because I can't get the image of that kid out of my head."

"Would you like me to see if Dr. Bradford would come here to see you?"

"Nah. I'll be okay. Now that they're cutting back on the morphine, I have more time to think." Don squeezed his father's hand and picked up his cards. "You just trying to distract me from the game?"

Alan grinned. "You caught me. I gotta do something. You've beaten me twice already, and you're about to beat me now. Good thing your brother bought the house, or I'd be on the verge of signing it over to you."

--

Charlie turned off his computer and put it back in its bag. "Are we going to talk to Fred at the school, or ..."

Liz grinned. "The way this seems to be going down we might be best off taking him to the FBI office. I'll drop you off at the hospital on the way there."

"But I need more data..."

"Charlie, I don't think we'll need your equations. I think Fred Agincourt is going to give us everything we need."

"Oh, sure, use me and throw me away," Charlie said, trying to pout, but failing. "You really think we're that close to catching the people who shot Don?"

"I don't know. I hope so." She pulled into the school parking lot. "You guys see Fred?"

--

"What do you have in mind?" Ben asked David as they sped toward the gallery.

"I've called for backup, but we'll have to see what's going on when we get there."

"Listen, David, I know I'm not an agent, and I'm definitely not armed, but I am more than willing to do whatever I can to help."

"I can't put you in harm's way." David's lips quirked in a smile. "Maggie would have my... head on a platter if I let anything happen to you."

Ben laughed. "Don't worry about her. I can handle her. I noticed a back door near Grant's office. Whoever is there with Grant is probably in his office. If I go to the front door, perhaps I can create enough of a distraction that you can get in the back. I assume agents are trained to do things with locks."

David chuckled. "That's a nice way of putting it. But if we get there and the backup's there already, you are staying in the car. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

The two men rode in silence, pulling up in front of Catalino's shop. "Okay, it looks like we're on our own," David said. "Give me a few minutes to get around back and then start your distraction."

Ben nodded, suddenly wondering why on earth he had volunteered to help. After he had watched David disappear around the corner, he tried the front door. Surprisingly, it opened. "Grant?" he called, stepping into the gallery show room. "Grant? I know you're here! Come on, Mate, you can do your paperwork tomorrow. Let's go to the pub." He heard some movement in the back. "Grant? Come on, it's not like you to leave the front door open like that." Taking a deep breath, he walked toward Grant's office.

--

"There he is," Colby said, pointing across the parking lot. Liz pulled up beside Fred's car, and the three got out of the SUV.

"Thank you for coming," Fred said, glancing nervously around. "I haven't seen anybody, though after talking with you, I'm feeling a bit paranoid."

"I'm sorry I frightened you, Mr. Agincourt," Liz said. "It's just hard to tell what these people are capable of doing. We believe they killed one of their own, and we know they shot a federal agent."

"Let's sit," Fred gestured toward a picnic table at the edge of the parking lot. "This has been a very trying day."

Colby glanced around the empty school grounds. "We'd be better off at the FBI office, but it looks clear here."

"Okay," Liz said. "Let's sit."

As they walked toward the picnic table, a man came around the corner of the building, walking toward them. .

Fred turned to look. "Oh, God," he whispered.

Charlie, Colby and Liz turned. "Gun!" Liz shouted as she and Colby drew their weapons.

Charlie saw the man pointing a gun of some sort in their direction, and realized instantly that the man was grinning at Fred. "Get down!" Charlie shouted as he tackled the teacher. He heard gunshots. They slammed into the pavement together, Fred landing on Charlie's outstretched right arm. A jolt of pain ran through Charlie's shoulder. "Stay down," he said, holding Fred down with his left hand. He squeezed his eyes shut and resisted the urge to see what was happening.

--

"Ben?" Grant called from the office. "I'll be right there. Would you keep an eye on the front for a minute?"

"Is something wrong?" Ben kept walking toward the office, praying that David was getting the back door unlocked.

"No," Grant sounded desperate. "Everything's fine, Ben. Please just give me a minute, and I'll..."

"Shut up!" a woman yelled.

Grant appeared in the corridor, being held at knifepoint by a gray haired woman. "Who are you?" she asked Ben.

"I'm a friend of Grant's. I just wanted to see if he wanted to go for a drink." He saw the door opening behind Grant and the woman. David appeared, his finger to his lips. Ben took a step toward the woman. "What's going on here? Grant? Did you push the alarm button?"

"Alarm button?" The woman pressed her knife against Grant's ribs. "Did you..."

Ben shushed her. "Listen! Are those sirens?"

The woman shoved Grant toward Ben and turned to run out the back door, coming face to face with David. "FBI," he said, "Give me the knife."

The woman sighed, turned the knife and presented it to David handle first. David took the knife, keeping his gun trained on the woman. "Hands behind your back"

"Oh, thank God," Grant said. "She was going to kill me!"

"Who is she and what's she after?" David asked as he put handcuffs on the woman.

"I have no idea who she is. But she was looking for that printout I gave you earlier."

--

Don laid down his cards. "Gin!"

Alan sighed and began to collect the cards to shuffle. "I'm going to see if they'll up your morphine a little."

"Why? I'm not really in any pain."

"I was hoping it would cloud your thought processes, my son."

"We don't have to play any more. When Charlie gets back, we could play chess instead," Don said, grinning.

Alan glanced at his watch again.

"Call him, Dad. At least we'll know when to expect him."

Alan opened his cell phone. "You talked me into it," he said as he dialed. "He's probably in the middle of some... hmm, it went to voice mail... Charlie, it's Dad. Don and I were just wondering when you'll be back. Give me a call when you get a chance." He closed the phone and stared at it for a moment. "I wonder where your brother is."

Don checked his watch. "I'm wondering where my supper is."

"I hear the rattling of food carts in the corridor." Alan stood and walked into the hallway. He came back, smiling. "Yep, supper's on the way. I think I'll go get myself something to eat. Charlie can fend for himself when he gets here. I'm not waiting for him."

--

"FBI! Freeze!" Colby yelled. The shooter turned, dropped his gun and ran. With a sigh, Colby ran after him, followed by Liz.

Liz slowed for a moment, pointing her key fob at the SUV and pressed "unlock." When she heard the answering chirp, she yelled, "Charlie! Fred! Get in the SUV!"

Charlie grimaced as he pulled his arm out from under Fred. Then he looked down and saw blood soaking through the front of the teacher's white shirt. "Liz! He's been hit!" He rolled Fred onto his back and sat up. Fred closed his eyes and groaned. "Hang in there, Fred. We'll get you some help." Charlie looked around, and caught sight of Liz and Colby running after the shooter.

He unbuttoned Fred's shirt and groaned as he saw the wound in the other man's chest. He had to stop the bleeding somehow. Pressure. He pulled off his long sleeved shirt, grimacing from the pain in his right arm. Folding the shirt up, he pressed it to Fred's wound with his left hand. Fred moaned. "Shhh it's okay. I'm just trying to stop the bleeding. The ambulance should be here soon." If Liz or Colby had called for it, he thought as he looked where he had last seen the two agents. "Crap," he whispered, pulling his cell phone out. "It won't hurt to call 911," he muttered. He glanced at the screen before dialing, and noticed he had missed a call. Right now the ambulance was more important. He dialed.

After he had reported the details to the operator, he turned his attention back to Fred. The teacher had passed out, but his breathing seemed strong. Charlie became aware of the throbbing in his right arm and released the pressure on Fred's chest long enough to lift his own sleeve. Blood oozed from a wound in his upper arm. He let the sleeve drop and turned his attention back to Fred.

"Charlie!" Liz knelt beside Charlie. "You're bleeding!"

"It's nothing. Just a scratch. Fred's been shot. It looks bad."

"Let me see."

Charlie lifted the wadded shirt from Agincourt's wound. "Where's Colby?"

Liz nodded, and took the shirt from Charlie, pressing it back against Fred's wound. "Reading our shooter his rights."

"That's great! Who is he?"

Liz shook her head. "I don't know, and he's not talking. It's not Francis, though."

"Fred recognized him." Charlie, said, looking at the unconscious teacher. "The shooter was smiling at him."

"Smiling?"

"Yeah. I think he was sent by someone to keep Fred from talking to us."

"Well, we'll find out soon enough."

"I called 911. I didn't know if you guys had called it in," Charlie said, flexing his right hand. His arm had gone beyond throbbing to serious pain. He pulled up his sleeve. The bleeding hadn't slowed, but he couldn't bring himself to put pressure on it.

"Charlie?" Liz said, "Let me have a look at that arm."

He chewed his lower lip as he lifted his sleeve and turned so his arm was close enough for Liz to see.

"Charlie, that's not a scratch. You've been shot. Turn to your left a little. Yep, it went clean through. If you can get that tee shirt off, I can use it to wrap it. We really need to stop that bleeding."

"I'll just wait for the ambulance."

"Here." She took his left hand and pressed it to the the shirt on Fred's chest. "Hold this." She took out a pocket knife and cut the the right sleeve and front of Charlie's tee shirt. "There, that should make it easier."

"Thanks," he wriggled out of the shirt and handed it to Liz. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain he knew was coming.

--

David read the woman her rights, handcuffed her, took her arm and said, "Let's go back out front. Who are you?" David asked.

"I guess it won't hurt to tell you my name. I'm Felicia Agincourt."

"As in Fred and Francis Agincourt?"

"I'm their mother. And that's all I'm going to tell you until I speak with my attorney. Sorry."

"That's fine with me," David said. His cell phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket, still holding Felicia's arm. "Sinclair."

"David, Liz. How's everything going with you?"

"Hey, Liz. You'll never guess who we caught."

"Who?"

"Felicia Agincourt. Fred and Francis' mother. How are things going with you?"

"Not so great. We met with Fred Agincourt and someone took a shot at him. Charlie tackled Fred, and he and Fred were both hit."

"Oh, man. How are they?"

"Charlie was shot in the arm, it went clean through and he's in a lot of pain. Fred looks a lot worse. He was shot in the chest. I'm trying to control the bleeding. The paramedics are on the way, but I wish they'd hurry."

"Did you get the shooter?"

"Yeah. I don't know who he is, but Charlie said Fred recognized him."

"Maybe Mrs. Agincourt here will know who would put a bullet in her son's chest."

"David? The paramedics are here. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"All right, Liz. Tell Charlie I said he should turn in his medical bills for reimbursement."

Liz laughed. "I will."

David closed his phone and turned to Felicia, who had stopped smiling. "What happened to my son?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"Someone shot him. He's seriously wounded, and he's on the way to the hospital now."

"I want to see him."

"We all want things. Some of us get what we want. Some don't," David said. "Sounds like our backup is here. Come on, let's go."

--

As Alan waited for the elevator, he opened his cell phone and pressed redial. This time Charlie picked up. "Hello?"

"Charlie! What is taking you so long? I thought you were just going to interview some teacher..."

"Dad," Charlie's voice shook. "Dad? I'm sorry. Things didn't go quite the way I expected."

"What's wrong? Charlie? Are you hurt?"

"Yeah. I'll be okay, but... well, we finished the interview and Liz got a phone call that this guy was in trouble. She didn't have time to drop me off, so I came along with them. We picked up the guy and someone shot him." He stopped and took a shuddering breath.

"Charlie? What happened? Were you shot?"

"Yeah, but Liz says it's not serious. It's just my arm."

"Just your arm? Where are you? I'll be right there!"

"No, Dad. It's okay. There's an ambulance on the way. The other guy is hurt really bad, Dad. I had to put pressure on his chest. It was bleeding so much. I... I..."

The elevator arrived, but Alan turned and walked to a chair across the hall. "Where are they taking you?"

"I'll tell them to bring me there." Charlie chuckled weakly. "That way you can visit both of your sons at once. Hey, maybe they'll let me share Don's room."

"I don't see why not," Alan said as he walked slowly back to Don's room. "You sure you don't want me to come there?"

"I'm sure, Dad. I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner."

"Well, you were a little bit busy," Alan said. "I'll forgive you this time. But you're going to have to play cards with your brother. I'm getting tired of getting beat."


	27. Chapter 27

"See you later, Dad," Charlie finished the call and closed his phone. His smile faded when he looked at Liz. "Is Fred going to be okay?"

Liz met Charlie's gaze and then looked back down at Fred. "I don't know, Charlie. I hope so. But you did the right thing, putting pressure on the wound. That was really all you could do. All any of us could do. And calling the ambulance. That was good, too."

Charlie smiled sadly. "Thanks."

"Why don't you lie down. You're looking a little woozy."

"Good idea." Charlie braced his right arm against his chest and used his left arm to ease himself down onto the pavement. "He could have waited until we got on the grass before shooting us."

Liz chuckled. "Inconsiderate creep. How'd your Dad take the news?"

"He wanted to come here. I told him I'd be there soon enough."

"So are we in trouble with him?"

"Hard to tell. He's worried now, but once he's sure I'm okay, I expect the wrath of Dad to rain down on our heads."

"Oh, no you don't! You're an adult. You make your own decisions. That's what you're always telling everybody. You're not going to blame me for this."

Charlie's laugh was cut short by a sharp pain in his arm "Ow! Okay, I'll take the full blame." He closed his eyes and used his left hand to try to adjust his injured arm into a more comfortable position. He wasn't sure if it was loss of blood or the sudden decrease in adrenaline, but he suddenly felt very tired. As he was drifting off to sleep, he heard sirens in the distance.

--

Don looked up as Alan entered the room. "That was fast," he said, digging in to a soft boiled egg.

"Charlie's been hurt," Alan said, slumping into his chair. "They're bringing him here by ambulance."

Don dropped his fork. "What happened? Is he going to be okay?"

Alan filled Don in on the little Charlie had told him. "And he said it was some guy that this witness knew."

"He didn't say which witness?" When Alan shook his head, Don continued. "It had to be Fred Agincourt, the elementary school teacher. Damn, I wish I wasn't stuck here in bed. I need to know what's going on." He picked up the phone and began to dial David's cell phone number. "Dad? Why don't you go down to the ER and wait for Charlie?"

"Will you be okay?"

Don nodded and Alan left. "David? It's Don. What the heck is going on? Dad just told me Charlie's been shot."

"It doesn't sound serious..."

"Serious? It doesn't have to be serious, David. He's my brother. He's a civilian. He's not supposed to be in these situations." Don grimaced at a pain in his midsection. "Listen, do you have time to fill me in now?"

David sighed. "Okay, Liz, Colby and Charlie talked to Fred, then to Francis. They were on the way back to drop Charlie off at the hospital when Fred called in a panic. He said Francis called him and threatened him. He said Francis was coming to Santa Monica to take care of something. I assumed that the 'something' was Grant Catalino, so Ben and I headed back there. Liz and Colby were about ready to talk to Fred when somebody shot at him. Liz said Charlie reacted quickly, and tackled Fred. The bullet went through Charlie's upper arm and into Fred's chest."

Don leaned back gingerly, massaging his aching belly. "What happened with Catalino?"

"Well, it wasn't Francis with him. It was our gray haired woman. Turns out she's Francis and Fred's mother, Felicia Agincourt. Catalino's safe, and Felicia is in custody. We're on the way back to the office now. Don," David said softly, "I'm really sorry about this, and I know Liz feels terrible about Charlie."

Don sighed. "I know, David. I'm sorry I blew up at you. It's just he's my brother, you know? I hate seeing anything happen to him."

"I know, Don. I'm still sorry."

"Thanks, David. It sounds like you're doing a good job with this case. Do I have to worry about having a job when I get back?"

"No! Man, you do not have a thing to worry about. I may see if I have enough vacation coming to get out of here until you're healthy."

Don laughed. "Don't do that. That would put Granger in charge."

When the call was finished, Don closed his phone and looked at the food on the tray. He sighed, pushed the bedside table away and lowered the head of his bed. He glanced at his watch. If he hadn't heard from his father in twenty minutes, he was going to call. And if he didn't answer, he was going to disconnect his IV and walk down to the emergency room. Yeah, right.

--

A quick check at the desk told Alan that Charlie hadn't arrived yet, so he found a seat where he could watch the ambulance entrance. He jumped every time the sliding doors opened. Three ambulances had come, disgorged their patients and left. The fourth time was the charm. Alan stood to see the patient, and caught a glimpse of an unruly mass of brown curls. He stepped forward. "Charlie?"

The curls moved, the head lifted. "Dad?"

"Oh, Charlie!" Alan took a place alongside the gurney and kept pace with the paramedics. Charlie's bare chest was splattered with blood. His right upper arm was heavily bandaged, and there was an IV needle in his left hand.

The gurney was pushed into an examining room, and one of the paramedics took Alan's arm. "I'm sorry, Sir, you'll have to give us a few minutes to get him settled. Just wait right here, and I'll let you know when you can go in, okay?"

Alan nodded. "Thank you," he whispered. "That's my son."

The paramedic squeezed Alan's shoulder. "I know, Sir. You'll be able to be with him in just a minute."

Alan stepped back and watched the door close in front of him. His cell phone rang. He smiled when he glanced at the display. "Donnie. He arrived just this minute."

"How's he look?"

"Good. There's a lot of blood, but he was awake. They're going to let me stay with him once the paramedics get him settled."

"That's good. He looks okay?"

Alan smiled. "In my vast medical experience as the father of two active boys, I can say that your brother looks like he's going to be just fine. Now you just relax and don't worry."

Don snorted. "Yeah, and you do the same."

"Okay, so I've got unrealistic expectations. Did you at least eat your supper?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Donnie, you've got to keep up your strength. Eat that supper."

"It's cold."

Alan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Be stubborn. I'll call you when I know more."

A few minutes later, the paramedics came out of the room. The one who had spoken to Alan said, "You can go ahead in, Sir."

"Thank you," Alan said as he hurried through the door.

Charlie lay on an examining table, a light blanket pulled up to his shoulders. His eyes were squeezed shut.

"Charlie," Alan said, taking Charlie's good hand in his, and brushing the curls back from his forehead.

"Hey, Dad," Charlie said through gritted teeth. He opened his eyes and tried to smile. "Getting shot hurts like hell."

"So now you'll know not to do that again."

--

There was a quick knock, and the exam room door opened. "Well, gentlemen," Dr. Torre said, glancing up from the chart in his hand, "I didn't expect to see you again so soon." He held the door open for Andrea, who entered carrying a tray of tools, then pulled the door shut and approached Charlie. "Charlie, I'm going to have Andrea give you something to take the edge off the pain. I'm sorry I can't give you anything stronger, but I want to see the x-rays first and see if we need to do anything surgically."

"Surgically?" Charlie asked weakly. He watched as Andrea injected something into a port on his IV, then turned back to Dr. Torre. "Why surgery?"

"There's a good chance your humerus was damaged by the bullet. How long has it been since you've had anything to eat or drink?"

Charlie's brow furrowed in concentration, and he finally had to turn to Alan. "I don't remember. I haven't eaten since I left with Liz... I don't remember even eating breakfast."

Alan chuckled as Charlie's stomach growled. "I think it's safe so say Charlie hasn't had anything to eat for at least twelve hours."

"Good. If we do need to do surgery we can do it right away. Of course, the bad news is you aren't going to get anything by mouth until after we've made our decision. Andrea will take your vitals while we give the meds some time to work. Then we'll get you into a wheelchair and she'll take you down to radiology."

--

The woman had come back for Don's tray, and looked at the barely touched food. "Not hungry?"

Don shook his head. "No. Sorry."

"You hurtin'? You want me to call the nurse for you?"

Don smiled at her. "Thank you, but no. They just brought my little brother in by ambulance. I don't really feel like eating."

She patted his hand. "Listen, Honey, I'll be praying for you and your little brother. If you don't mind, that is. Some people get offended."

"I appreciate it. We could use all the help we can get."

"And when you find out he's gonna be fine and your appetite comes back, you just let the nurse know. They have plenty of stuff in the fridge for you folks. And you need to keep your strength up. That older gent who was here with you before – is that your Daddy?"

"Yes, it is."

"He'll have his hands full with the two of you, so don't you be letting yourself get sick again."

Don chuckled. "Yes, Ma'am."

"There! I got you feelin' better already. You sure you don't want any of this before I take it away? I can get it on the way back, or they can pick it up when they bring your breakfast."

He studied the tray when she lifted the lid. "That fruit cup looks pretty good," he said.

"Good!" she said, pushing the bedside table closer to him as he pressed the button to elevate the head of the bed. She glanced at the cold soft boiled egg and grimaced. "That egg looks just plain nasty, though. There's some nice chocolate pudding in the fridge."

"Thanks, I'll ask the nurse about it when I've finished this." He picked up the spoon and started in on the fruit salad. The woman patted his hand and turned to leave. "Ma'am? Thank you."

"Call me Rosie. And you're more than welcome, Son. We're all a team here, and our job is making sure our patients get the best possible care."

Don lifted his cup of apple juice in a toast. "You're doing a great job, Rosie!"

He had finished the fruit cup and was poking tentatively at the egg when the door opened again.

Liz hesitated in the doorway with David and Colby behind her. "Don?" she said, "I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay, Liz. You did the right thing. It was just a fluke – Charlie was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all."

Liz crossed the room and felt Don's forehead. "Hmm. No fever."

Don smiled and pushed her hand away. "How's Fred Agincourt doing? He was the one that was injured, right?"

"Right. He's in serious condition, but it looks like he's going to be okay. How's Charlie?"

"You didn't come here with him?"

"I stayed with Fred, and Colby took our shooter in."

"I haven't heard anything from Dad since Charlie got here. He said they were letting him stay with him and it looked like he was going to be okay." He picked up his cell phone and glanced at the display. "It's been a while. I should call Dad and see what's going on." He dialed Alan's number. "It's gone to voice mail. They probably made him turn it off."

"Listen," Colby said, "why don't I go down and see how he's doing? Liz and David can fill you in on what happened today. It's been a pretty eventful day."

--

Alan sat in the ER waiting room, staring at a magazine. Andrea had explained to him that it was pretty close quarters in radiology, and that he'd be better off waiting up here. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but he kept glancing from his watch to the corridor where Andrea and Charlie had disappeared.

"Mr. Eppes?" Alan turned, startled, and saw Colby Granger approaching him. "How's Charlie doing?"

"They've taken him for x-rays. The doctor thinks he might need surgery. There might be bone chips or something in his arm that they have to clean up." He shrugged. "But he seems okay. They gave him something for the pain, and he seems to be feeling a little better."

"That's great news." Colby sat next to Alan, squeezing his shoulder. "I'm really sorry this had to happen. I think if Charlie hadn't reacted as quick as he did, the witness would be dead now. But we should have taken more precautions. You just let your guard down for a moment, and ..."

"It's okay, Colby. Charlie'll be fine. Have you been up to see Don yet? He must be going nuts wondering what's happening."

Colby grinned. "He is. Which is why I'm down here to see you right now. He tried calling you, but your cell phone was off."

Alan patted his pocket self-consciously. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I wanted to see Charlie anyway. I need to see for myself that he's okay, you know? I feel responsible. I should have seen the shooter sooner, reacted quicker."

"And I should have insisted Charlie stay here and not go with you. And Charlie should have gone to campus instead of coming here today. And..."

Colby held up his hands. "I get your point, Mr. Eppes."

"It's Alan! Why does everybody insist on calling me Mr. Eppes?"

"Mr. Eppes?" Andrea called from the corridor. "Look who's back!" Andrea and Charlie waved as she pushed the wheelchair back into the exam room.

Alan stood. "Come on. Let's go see what they found out."

As Alan and Colby entered the room, Andrea was helping Charlie out of the wheelchair. His face was pale and he leaned heavily against her.

"Charlie? Are you okay?"

"If anybody ever tells you x-rays don't hurt," he muttered as he sat on the edge of the bed, "don't believe 'em."

Andrea put her left hand behind Charlie's back, supporting him as he swung his legs onto the bed, and then eased him back. "There," she said. "Can I get you anything?"

Charlie shook his head. "No. I'm good, thanks."

"Dr. Torre will be back in a few minutes. You just get some rest, okay?"

After she left, Alan hurried to Charlie's side. "What happened?"

"They just had to keep moving my arm around so they could get the best images. Somebody should invent an x-ray that doesn't require torturing the patient. I could design an algorithm."

Colby chuckled. "If anybody could do it, you could."


	28. Chapter 28

Don shook his head in disbelief after Liz and David filled him in. "You have been busy. Has Mrs. Agincourt had anything to say?"

David said, "Just that she wants her lawyer. That seems to be a common theme in this case."

"What impression did you get of her?"

"I think she's in charge of the operation. Catalino said she wanted the printout of the Van Gogh. She's probably cleaning up after her son."

"Sounds like it," Don said, nodding. "You said she seemed upset when you told her Fred had been shot? You think she's a good enough actress to pull that off?"

"Nah. I think she was surprised and upset. We might be able to use Charlie's prisoner's dilemma thing to get her to testify against Francis."

Don glanced at his watch at the mention of his brother. "Why hasn't Colby called to let us know how Charlie's doing?"

Liz pulled out her cell phone. "I'll find out... Colby?... Liz... How's Charlie doing?... Okay... Yeah, Don was wondering... Well, actually we were all wondering... Tell him we'll see him later, okay?" She ended the call and turned to Don. "They just brought Charlie back from x-ray. Your dad and Colby are with him now, but they won't know anything more 'til the doctor comes back in. He said to tell you the doctor is an acquaintance of yours – Dr. Torre."

Don smiled. "He's a good man." He grew serious again. "Did Colby say anything about how Charlie's doing?"

"He's in some pain. I guess he was kind of cranky at the x-ray technicians because they kept moving his arm around."

"That's a good sign," Don said with a grin. "He must be feeling okay if he's up to being cranky. Sorry, let's get back to the case. David, you mentioned getting Felicia to testify against Francis. You think you can handle that?"

"Yeah," David said. "When I get back to the office, I'm going to start doing a background check on Felicia. She must have had some plan in mind to get rid of those art works, and from what Ben said, they're not that easy to market. I'm assuming she has some kind of connection in the art world."

"Sounds like a reasonable assumption to me," Don said with a nod. "These thefts don't seem to be the work of someone stupid."

--

Dr. Torre knocked and entered the exam room again, holding a large envelope of x-rays. He put the films on the viewer. "Well, Charlie, I've got good news, bad news and more good news."

Charlie opened his eyes and lifted his head. "That sounds encouraging. Except for the bad news."

"Well, first, Andrea's going to give you something more effective for the pain." He pointed at a shadow on the x-ray. "There's a crack in your humerus and a few stray bone chips, but nothing that warrants surgery. I'm just going to stitch you up, pump you full of intravenous antibiotics tonight and tomorrow, and then send you home with a brace for your arm. And given the percentages in the general population, It's my theory that you're right handed."

"Yes, I am. Too bad I didn't get hit in the left arm."

"It's only in movies where the good guy consistently gets shot in his non-dominant arm. In my experience, Murphy's Law takes effect. Righties hurt their right arm, and lefties their left. The bad news is that unfortunately, you're going to have to learn how to do things with your left hand for a few weeks. Between the soft tissue damage and the cracked bone, you risk doing more damage to the arm if you use it."

Andrea entered the room and held up a syringe. "Charlie, Dr. Torre says you can have the good stuff now. You ready?"

Charlie smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"It's going to make you drowsy," Dr. Torre said. "Do you have any questions for me before we proceed?"

"When can I go back to work?"

Alan sighed, "Charlie, you really need to rest. You've been shot!"

Charlie ignored Alan and kept looking at Dr. Torre.

The doctor smiled, "Far be it from me to get involved in a family dispute, but I would say you have to listen to your own body, Charlie." He chuckled as he caught sight of Alan rolling his eyes. "I take it from your father's reaction that you tend to ignore your body's signals. So I'll give you some guidelines. You have to realize that you've suffered a trauma not just to your arm, but to your whole system. Gunshot wounds get infected very easily, so your body's resources are going to be strained as they fight infection. The pain will wear on you more than you realize now. You'll find yourself getting tired easily. That's a sign that you need to step back and let your body recover. Then, you'll have the issue of retraining your brain."

"How so?" Charlie asked, his interest piqued.

"Well, I assume you're aware that the left side of the brain tends to control the right side of the body." He continued when Charlie nodded, "Now that your right arm is injured, the right side of your brain is going to have to step up to the plate and start working with your left hand to take over the functions of your injured arm. And, since you're a mathematician, and right handed, I'm guessing that the right side of your brain has gotten flabby. It's going to have to do more work than it's accustomed to, and that will be a drain on your body as well."

A smile had spread across Charlie's face. "I'm studying the mathematics of the brain. It'll be interesting to get some hands-on experience, so to speak. This is going to be interesting."

Dr. Torre chuckled. "I'll check back with you in six weeks, and you can tell me how interesting it's been. You ready for the painkillers?"

But Charlie was staring at his own left hand, flexing the fingers. Alan glanced at Dr. Torre. "You might as well give him the drugs now. He's off in his own mathematical world."

Andrea inserted the syringe into the port in Charlie's IV. She and Dr. Torre began collecting equipment. As Dr. Torre washed his hands and put on latex gloves, he explained, "Once the painkillers take effect, I'm going to unwrap the arm, and clean out the wound. Then we'll take a few stitches in the entry and exit wounds and wrap him back up. I'll put a removable brace over the bandage to protect the bone from shifting."

Colby cleared his throat. "I'm going to go to the waiting room and call Don. He's probably climbing the walls waiting to hear from us."

"Good idea," Alan said. "It sounds like he's going to have a roommate for the night."

Dr. Torre said, "At least for tonight. We'll see how Charlie's doing tomorrow and decide if he's ready to go home." After Colby had left, the doctor said to Alan, "You can stay if you'd like, but it's going to be kind of messy."

"I raised two boys, Dr. Torre, I can handle messy."

But Alan wasn't quite as prepared as he thought he was. He grimaced at the sight of Charlie's upper arm when the bandages were removed.

Dr. Torre said, "This is the exit wound. It looks a lot worse than the entry wound on the back of his arm. As bullet wounds go, this one really doesn't look bad."

Alan winced. "It looks pretty bad to me. But then this is the first one I've seen."

Dr. Torre picked up a hypodermic. "Charlie, this is going to sting for a minute. I'm numbing the area so I can clean and suture the wound."

Charlie's eyes widened as he looked at the needle. He quickly squeezed them shut and gasped as the needle pierced his skin.

Alan squeezed Charlie's left hand.. "Shhh," he soothed. "It's okay, Charlie. Stay still. Try to relax your arm. It'll hurt less."

--

Colby grinned as Liz picked up on the first ring. "Hey, Liz, ask Don if he's ready for a roommate."

He could hear her relaying the message, and then Don's voice came over the phone. "Colby, what's going on with Charlie?"

"Calm down, Don. The bone is cracked, but the doctor doesn't think he'll need surgery. He's cleaning the wound now and stitching him up. He wants to keep him in for a day or two on IV antibiotics."

"Thanks. That's good news. How's he feeling?"

"He's pretty sleepy. They've started him on something stronger for the pain, and he was pretty much out of it when I left. Listen, if you don't mind, I'm going to go check on Fred."

"That's fine. Dad's still with Charlie, right?"

"Yeah. Wild horses and all that."

Don laughed. "Thanks, Colby. Give Liz or David a call when you find out about Fred, okay? I think I'm going to take a nap before my roommate moves in. He snores."

When he hung up, Don noticed Liz and David were grinning at him. "What?"

"Charlie must be doing okay," David said. "You just laughed."

"He is. Just a few stitches and a day or two of IV antibiotics. I guess they're going to bend the rule about no roommates for law enforcement. They'll be bringing him up here in a little while."

"That's great news," Liz said. "If he's up to it I want to ask him a few questions before I leave."

David checked his watch. "I think I'll get back to the office and start researching Felicia Agincourt. Unless there was anything else you wanted, Don."

"No, I'm good. You're doing a great job, David. They'll be giving you your own team soon if you keep this up."

David shook his head. "Oh, no! I don't think I could take the stress every single day. How'd you get used to it?"

Don shrugged. "Don't ask me. Ask my shrink."

David chuckled as he walked toward the door. "Good point. Hey, tell Charlie if he'd been with me and Ben, he'd still be in one piece."

Liz punched David on the arm as he passed. "No fair. Your perp only had a knife."

"True. You and Colby did a good job of getting the guy, by the way. Okay, I'm outta here. I'll keep you updated, Don. Liz, I'll see you later."

After David had left, Liz moved to sit on the edge of Don's bed. "How you feeling?"

"Sore," Don murmured, rubbing his stomach and grimacing.

"Are you due for your pain meds?"

"Yeah. The nurse came by a little while ago, but I want to wait until after Charlie gets here and that stuff knocks me out."

"You told Colby you were going to take a nap."

"There's a difference between taking a nap and being doped into unconsciousness," Don said, "But, speaking of Colby, he said he was going to check on Fred. I told him to call you or David when he knows anything about his condition. Maybe you guys will get a chance to talk to him tonight."

"That would be great. Charlie was sure Fred recognized our shooter. I'm sure they've ID'ed him by now, but it would be nice to find out how Fred knows him. Listen," Liz said, running her fingers through Don's hair, "why don't you take that nap? I'll wake you up when Charlie gets here."

"Nah. I don't want to be a bad host."

"You're not the host. You're the sick guy, and the sick guy doesn't have to be polite. Get some sleep. If you were telling Colby the truth about Charlie's snoring, you're going to need to get some sleep before he gets here."

"You sure?" Don asked as his eyes drifted shut. "I could..."

"Shhh. I'm sure."

--

Liz didn't have to wake Don up when Charlie arrived. His eyes opened at the sound of his father's voice, and he grinned groggily at his brother. "Hey, Buddy! 's that you?"

Charlie was slouched in a wheelchair, right arm in a sling, trying hard to keep his eyes open. "Don? Hey, yeah, it's me. Looks like we're gonna be roommates for a while."

Don raised the head of his bed to get a better look at Charlie. "How are you doing? You okay?"

"'m sore. And whatever they gave me for the pain is makin' me sleepy."

Liz stood. "Charlie! It's good to see you."

"Hey, Liz," Charlie said, smiling tiredly, "D'you solve the case yet?"

"With our two best investigators out of commission, it's going to take the rest of us a little longer," Liz said.

Andrea parked the wheelchair beside the second bed. "Okay, Charlie, let me help you up. We're going to get you into bed and get your IV switched over to the pole. Take it slow. We don't want you falling and hurting yourself."

"No. No we don't," Charlie murmured as he moved his feet from the footrests to the floor.

Alan stepped forward to help, but Andrea said, "I've got him, Mr. Eppes." She helped Charlie to his feet and then held the tubes out of the way as he climbed into bed. He tried to move his right arm to brace himself. "Use your left hand, Charlie," she said.

"Okay, sorry. I keep forgetting. I think it's going to take a while for my brain to catch up."

Don chuckled. "You never had that problem before, Buddy. Your brain has always been the sharpest part of you."

Alan sat on the foot of Don's bed. "Dr. Torre said his brain is flabby."

"Just the right side of it, Dad," Charlie said. "See, Don, the left side of the brain controls the logic and mathematical processes, and controls the right side of the body..."

"Shh, Chuck," Don said. "We're both too doped up for a math lecture now."

"That's not math," Charlie said as he settled back onto his pillow. "It's biology."

"Whatever," Don shrugged. "You said mathematical processes and my brain shut down."

"So, Don," Andrea said as she pulled the covers up to Charlie's waist, "Dr. Torre asked me to see you you were doing."

"Five'll get you ten he says he's fine," Alan said, patting Don's leg.

"You lose, Dad. I'm sore. I put off taking my painkillers so I could wait up for you guys. What'd you do, let Charlie lecture the whole staff on brain function while I was up here in pain?"

"Aw, poor baby," Alan said. "Want me to call the nurse for you, or do you have the strength to do it yourself?"

Don chuckled. "I think I can put up with the agony a few minutes longer."

Liz shook her head and crossed the room. "Hey, Charlie, you up to answering a few questions while those two bicker?"

"Sure," Charlie said, trying to shift to a more comfortable position. "What do you need?"

"I just need to know what you observed before and during the shooting."

Charlie nodded and closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay, We were walking toward the picnic table. I, well, I was looking down as I walked. Thinking about something totally unrelated."

"Why am I not surprised?" Liz said.

Charlie opened his eyes and glanced at her.

"I'm just teasing, Charlie. Sorry. Go on."

"Fred stopped walking. I was next to him. He said, 'Oh, God,' and I looked up to see what he was looking at. There was a guy dressed in dark clothes, pointing a gun at Fred. He was smiling. It was like he knew Fred and was... was looking forward to killing him."

"Okay, that's good to know. What happened then? Did he say anything else?"

"Fred stood there, just frozen. I don't remember him saying anything else. I knew he was going to get killed if I didn't do anything. No offense, but I didn't think you and Colby would be able to stop him in time."

"No offense taken, Charlie."

"I tackled him. We hit the pavement really hard, and he landed on my arm," he reached up, and massaged the bandage. "I thought it was broken from the impact, but I guess it was the bullet." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "The trajectories had to be pretty complex. The two of us moving, the shooter moving..."

"You can figure them out when you're a little more awake. Anything else?"

"Not really. I held him down and just waited until you yelled for us to get into the car. Then I realized he had been shot. I tried to stop the bleeding the best I could."

"You did a good job, Charlie."

"It was strange. I didn't realize right away that I'd been shot."

"That's normal," Don said from across the room. "I mean, I knew right away, but a lot of times people don't feel anything right away."

"Or," Liz added, "like you, they think it's something else. You thought it was because Fred landed on your arm." She stood and rested her hand on Charlie's good shoulder. "You did good, Charlie. Now you'll have something exciting to tell your grandkids."

Alan snorted. "His grandkids?! He'll have to settle down and get married and have his own kids before he can ever hope to have grandkids." Alan's eyes widened. "Has anybody called Amita and told her about this?" he said, waving a hand toward Charlie.

Liz and Charlie shook their heads. Charlie moaned, "She's going to kill me. What time is it? Is it too late to call her?"

Alan glanced at his watch. "I don't know, Charlie..."

"Liz, can I borrow your phone? Mine is someplace with my clothes. I hope."

Liz handed Charlie her phone and he started to dial. He paused when he noticed everybody was staring at him. "How about a little privacy, here?"

Don grinned. "Privacy? Have you looked at what you're wearing? There's no such thing as privacy in a hospital."


	29. Chapter 29

Amita had decided to go to bed early. She hadn't heard from Charlie since he left her apartment that morning. She had been relieved that she was able to get back to something resembling her normal routine. But Charlie was becoming a bigger and bigger part of her life, and she really missed him when he wasn't around. She wondered briefly if everything was okay, but dismissed that thought quickly.

Then her phone rang.

Twenty minutes Amita pushed the door open and peeked into the hospital room. "Okay if I come in?" Alan looked up at her, put his finger to his lips in a shushing motion and waved her in to the room. "It's kind of boring in here right now," he whispered. "They've both had their painkillers, so I think it's going to be a while before either of them stirs." He stood, stretching the aches out of his bones. "Would you like to sit?"

"No, Alan, I can't take your seat."

He lifted the chair and moved it closer to Charlie's bed. "Sure you can. I was hoping you'd cover for me for a few minutes." He glanced at his watch. "It's past visiting hours. How'd you get past the nurses?"

Amita smiled as she sat down. "Charlie and I befriended Nurse Ryan last night. She let me in."

"Nurse Mary Ryan? You sure? She didn't seem like the rule-bending type to me."

"She wasn't until she realized Charlie was Don's brother. I get the feeling family is more important to her than rules."

Alan smiled as he rested a hand on Amita's shoulder. "And well it should be. Family is the most important thing in the world."

"It is. I don't know if I've ever thanked you for making me part of your family."

Alan chuckled. "That was Charlie's decision." He noticed her stricken expression and added, "A decision I heartily approve of. In fact, if you'll recall, I was the one who asked him what was more important..."

Amita grinned. "Learning or love. Looks like he's managed to get both."

"That he has. I'm going to take a walk. Want me to bring you anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm good." When Alan left, she looked down at Charlie. The bruises on his face had started to fade, but his face was so pale, the bruises looked even darker. She grimaced as she saw the bandage on his upper arm. It could have been worse, she thought. It could have been a lot worse. Sometimes he was such an impulsive idiot. She couldn't believe it when he had told her he'd gotten shot pushing a witness out of harm's way. Though he had risked his life to rescue Taylor Ashby.

She shuddered, remembering how she had felt when she realized how close she had come to losing him. She didn't want to wake him up, but she needed to touch him, to feel him. To know that he was still with her. She slipped her hand under the fingers of his good hand. His fingers were so cold, but they closed around hers, and she smiled tenderly at him. He whispered something. It was so quiet; almost a sigh. His eyes began to move. "Shhhh, Charlie. Sleep," she murmured, stroking his cheek gently. He took a deep breath, let it out in a long sigh and fell deeper asleep.

--

Liz sat, watching Fred Agincourt's face for any sign that he was waking up. Colby paced. "How long did the doctor say it would take?" Colby asked.

"It'll take as long as it takes," Liz said, wearily. "Listen, I'll wait here. Why don't you go back to the office? Or home to bed. Or someplace other than here."

Colby stopped pacing and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

"I'm serious. There's no sense both of us wasting our time here."

"You sure?"

Liz shot him a glance. "Granger!"

"I'm going," he said, backing toward the door. "Call me if you need me."

"Get!" She softened the word with a smile. "Goodnight, Colby."

"Goodnight, Liz."

Liz slouched in the chair and dozed. Some time later, the sounds of Agincourt moving woke her up. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. He was staring at her. "Hey," she said softly. "You with me, Fred?"

"I think so," he croaked. "What happened?"

"You were shot."

He closed his eyes and groaned. "I remember now. Dr. Eppes... is he okay?"

"He'll be fine. He was shot in the arm. Charlie said you recognized the shooter. Who was it?"

"He was one of the kids Frank mentored. His name is Curtis Stevens. Curt. He was a troubled kid. Did you ... did you kill him?"

"No. No, he's fine. He's in custody. Why would he shoot you?"

"No idea. I didn't really know him at all. He worked with Frank"

"Charlie said Curt smiled at you. Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. I .. I didn't notice him smiling"

"Fred, what's your mom do? Is she a teacher too?"

"No. She's an art restorer. She fixes artworks, like paintings, drawings, sculptures. Why? You don't think my mother is involved in this."

"We arrested her a little while ago."

"Mom? Why? She wouldn't..."

"Fred, she was trying to steal evidence your brother left behind with an art dealer in Santa Monica."

"An art dealer?" His eyes widened. "Are you saying Frank was involved with the art thieves?"

Liz closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "He wasn't just involved, Fred. We think your brother and your mother ran the theft ring."

"No. That's not possible. You're wrong. And I think I'd better have a lawyer before I say anything else to you, Agent." He blinked and looked away. "I'm sorry. I ... I can't tell you anything more. Where's my wallet? My lawyer's number is in there."

Liz stood and retrieved the blue and white plastic bag from the shelf under the bed. "It's in here with the rest of your stuff. And you can use my cell phone to call if you'd like."

Fred pulled his wallet from the bag. "I really am sorry, Agent Warner. I want to help you, but I don't want to do anything I'll regret."

Liz smiled as she handed him her phone. "I understand. I really do. You want me to leave the room while you call?"

"No. I'll probably get his answering machine anyway." He dialed. "I was right. Hey, Pete, this is Fred Agincourt. I'm at Huntington Memorial. I'm not under arrest, but I'm being questioned by the FBI about the recent art thefts. Call me as soon as you get this." He hung up and handed the phone back to Liz. "Thanks. Listen, is there any urgency? I mean, is anybody in danger if I don't talk to you right away?"

Liz sighed. "You tell me. We've got the guy who shot you and Charlie, along with the little girl who shot one of our agents. Is there anybody else out there we have to worry about?"

"Honestly, Agent, I don't know. I would tell you if I did. I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

Liz stood. "Okay. I'll talk to you after you've spoken with your lawyer. Take care," she said as she left the room.

On her way back to Don's room -- Don and Charlie's room, she reminded herself -- she called David. "Hey, David. Fred woke up. He gave me the name of the shooter..."

"Curt Stevens, right?"

"Right. Don't tell me you know his mother's occupation."

"Got nothing on that yet. What'd you get?"

"She's an art restorer."

David whistled. "That's very interesting. Anything else?"

"I really think he was surprised that his mother and brother are involved in this. He's not going to say anything else without his lawyer, though. So I'm on the way up to say goodnight to Don and Charlie before I come back in."

"Colby tells me you told him to go home and get some sleep. Why don't you take your own advice, Liz?"

"Did Colby?"

David laughed. "No. Did you really expect him to?"

"Then I'm not either. I'll be in after I talk to Don."

Liz tapped on the door and quietly entered Don's room. "Hey," she said as Alan looked up. "How are they doing?"

"Sound asleep," Alan said, standing and stretching his back. "All three of them," he added, pointing to Amita curled up in a chair, her head resting on the bed next to Charlie's arm.

"I'm awake," Amita said, sitting up and blinking.

"Amita, dear, why don't you go home and get some rest?" He held up his hand as she started to object. "Shhh. If you'd like, you can come back tomorrow and give me a break. How's that sound?"

"I can drop you off if you'd like," Liz said as she touched Don's cheek. "I just thought I'd stop and see how Don's doing before going back to the office."

"No, that's okay. I've got my car," Amita said, bending down to give Charlie a kiss. She stood, smiling at Alan. "I have a feeling they're both going to be out until sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"At least," he said.

Amita packed up the papers she had brought with her. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

"I'm sure. No point in both of us watching them sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

Liz entered the conference room carrying three large cups of coffee. Colby looked up and grinned, "Boy, am I glad to see you." He took the cup Liz offered. "It's nice to see you too, Liz."

She gave him a good-natured punch on the arm. "Watch it, Granger. The coffee wouldn't have made it here without me."

"She's got a point," David said as he took the cup Liz handed him. "Thanks, Liz. How are Don and Charlie doing?"

"They were both asleep by the time I got there. But Alan says they're both doing well. He's hoping they'll be going home in a couple of days." She sat down next to David. "So what have you got so far? We ready to wrap this up?"

David grinned. "Not quite, but we're getting close." He stood and approached one of Charlie's white boards. "You think he'll mind if I erase this?"

Liz tilted her head and stared at the board. "I think that's from an old case."

Colby nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right. But why don't I take a photo of it just in case?" He pulled his cell phone out and aimed it at the board. The phone made a sound like a camera shutter clicking and Colby squinted at the screen. "That should do it. I'll email this to the Whiz Kid in case he needs it."

"Good idea, Granger," David said as he erased the board. "Okay, we've got a lot of loose ends to tie together and a lot of people in custody." Way up at the top of the white board, he wrote 'Felicia Agincourt, Francis Agincourt, Fred Agincourt,' and put a question mark next to Fred's name. "It's safe to say that Felicia and Francis are involved up to their eyeballs in this. What about Fred?"

Liz shook her head, "I really think he was clueless."

"I agree," Colby said, "He had no idea what they were up to."

David crossed out Fred's name. "You think he'll testify against them?"

"Hard to say," Colby said. "I think he'd be willing, but he may not know enough to be of any use."

"All right." David circled Felicia's name. "She's going to be a hard nut to crack. I have no clue what her motive for these thefts could have been, but she knows art. She's got quite a reputation as a restorer, but on the other hand, she's also been an activist in a half a dozen different causes."

"Any arrests?" Liz asked.

"Up until now, they've all been for civil disobedience type things – sit-ins, vandalism, that kind of thing. She's been anti-war, anti-cruelty, anti-business, pro-civil rights. She was even a member of that Earth Liberation Movement we investigated during that serial arson case."

"It would be interesting to see what changed her focus," Liz said.

"Maybe if she's doing this for some cause – other than getting rich – she might just be looking forward to telling somebody about it," David said. He wrote 'Ellen Davis' on the board. "One thing I just don't get is why they killed a member of their own gang."

Colby leaned forward. "Yeah, that's been bugging me, too. I mean, she must have been a trusted member of the gang. They trusted her to actually steal the Van Gogh. I think we should start talking to her friends, and maybe even talk to her husband again. This just isn't fitting with everything else."

"You want to start on that in the morning?" David asked.

"Yeah," Colby said, stifling a yawn. "I'll see what I can find."

David glanced at his watch. "If we're going to be of any use to anybody tomorrow, we'd better get some sleep tonight." He put the top on the marker. "Go home."

--

Alan had just settled back down with his sudoku book when there was a tap on the door. "Come in," he said.

Mary Ryan stood in the doorway. "Hi, Mr. Eppes, were you planning on spending the night?"

Alan stood. "I didn't think it would be a problem..."

"Oh, no! I'm sorry! It's not a problem at all." She pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. She came back pushing a brown leather reclining chair.

"Here," Alan said, "let me help you with that."

"I've got it. It's got wheels. Pediatrics isn't too busy tonight, so I asked them if I could borrow a sleeper chair for you." She easily pushed the chair to a spot between the two beds. "It reclines perfectly flat so you can sleep in it, but it doesn't take up anywhere near as much room as a bed."

"Why, thank you, Nurse Ryan," Alan said, running his hand across the chair back.

"Call me Mary. Have a seat, Mr. Eppes. It's very comfortable."

Alan sat. "Thank you, Mary. And, please, call me Alan."

Thursday morning, Alan awoke to the sound of voices. He reached for the handle to change the sleeper back into a chair.

"Well, look at that, Buddy," Don said, chuckling, "Sleeping Beauty is back among us."

"Shh, he needs his rest. He's not getting any younger, you know," Charlie said, grinning broadly.

"You boys think you're funny? You each slept through being kissed by an incredibly beautiful woman last night." Alan stood and pushed the chair against the wall. He checked his watch. "Nine fifteen? I slept through the morning excitement?"

"Yep," Charlie said, "the taking of the blood pressures and temperatures, the blood tests, and even breakfast."

"You shouldn't have let me sleep so long."

Don raised the head of his bed. "Come on, Dad, you obviously needed it."

Alan shrugged. "I had to keep an eye on my boys, you know."

Charlie chuckled as he raised the head of his bed. "And nobody does it better, Pop. Even when you're asleep."

"Very funny," Alan said. "How's the arm?"

"Sore, but the pain meds were making my head too fuzzy."

Don laughed. "Oh, man, Buddy, you left yourself wide open on that one."

Charlie shook his head. "To change the subject, have you talked to David yet?"

"Yeah, when you and your fuzzy head were sawing wood. They're on the verge of wrapping the case up. Without us, if you can believe it."

"It had to happen eventually," Charlie said.

"There's one thing they're still stuck on, and for the life of me, I can't come up with any ideas either."

"Really?" Charlie sat up, grimacing as he jostled his arm. "What?"

"Ellen Davis. She was obviously a trusted member of the gang. Why'd they kill her?"

"Dad? Do you have any idea where my laptop is? I had it in Liz's car."

"Charlie!" Alan said, "You're supposed to be resting."

"For me, this would be rest. Come on, Dad. Let me borrow your phone. I'm going to call Liz."

Alan sighed and handed Charlie his cell phone.


	30. Chapter 30

After a series of phone calls, Charlie handed the phone back to Alan. "Charlie, that sounded as complicated as planning the D-Day invasion."

"Not quite that bad," Charlie chuckled. "I just have to get my computer across town, not across the ocean."

"So," Don said, "what do you have in mind, Chuck? I assume you're not planning on playing Freecell."

"Not hardly. I was thinking about the problem you're having with Ellen Davis's murder. I obviously missed something in my network analysis. Assuming that Felicia is running this thing, I think she would have trusted Ellen. So if we assume that Felicia didn't have her killed, someone else did. I'm going to go through her other connections and see what I can find."

"How are you going to do that with a bum arm?" Alan asked.

Charlie flexed the fingers on his right hand carefully, grimacing. "I think I can type as long as I don't move my arm too much. And Amita's picking up my computer from Liz and bringing it here. She said she could stay a while and help."

Don nodded. "David's having the techs go over everything that was found where they found Ellen's body. And he's pressuring the school to get him a list of any students who have had contact with the Agincourt brothers in the past fifteen years. Maybe we can help David finish this thing up after all."

Alan shook his head. "Why can't the two of you just rest and recuperate like ordinary human beings?"

Charlie shrugged and grimaced. "Maybe because you and Mom raised us to be extraordinary human beings?"

"Well, this ordinary human being needs to get some breakfast. Can I trust the two of you to stay in bed while I'm gone?"

"No, Dad," Don said, "The minute you leave we're going to have wheelchair races in the hallway."

Alan scowled and ruffled Don's hair. "Wait'll I get back. I want to see that."

When Alan returned, both boys were still in bed, but Charlie was working clumsily on his laptop with Amita sitting on the bed next to him, watching over his shoulder. Don was on the phone. Alan noticed Don had reclined his bed and was rubbing his eyes wearily.

Amita looked up, smiling as Alan entered. "Hi," she said. "I tried to get him to let me do the typing, but you know how stubborn he can be."

"Oh, I know," Alan said, sitting next to Don. He rested his hand on his son's shoulder. When Don looked up, Alan whispered, "Everything okay?"

Don nodded and said into the phone, "Okay, thanks for keeping me updated, David. Call me when you know anything more, okay? And I'll call you if – when – Charlie comes up with something."

"If?" Charlie said when Don had finished his call. "IF?!"

"Sorry, Buddy. Must be the painkillers affecting my brain. I did correct myself."

"Okay, I'll let you get away with it this time. What'd David have to say?"

"Wait," Alan said, "before you two – three – get going, let me ask one thing. Donnie, are you feeling okay? You're looking a little peaked, Son."

"I'm fine, Dad. Just a little tired, that's all. If it gets to be too much, I'll stop and take a nap, okay?"

"Yeah, right," Alan said. "Well, I'm staying here to make sure you two don't overdo."

Charlie gave Alan an annoyed look. "Come on, Dad. Don, what did David say?"

"The Van Gogh turned up."

"What?" Charlie said, sitting up abruptly. He winced and grabbed his arm. "Ow. The Van Gogh turned up? Where?"

Don grinned. "You're not going to believe this. A guy who owns a pawn shop in one of the worst neighborhoods in LA called the LAPD. Some kid showed up, claiming the Van Gogh was a really old copy from his grandma's attic. The pawn shop clerk gave him 200. The owner recognized the painting the moment he saw it."

"A kid? How old of a kid? Was there a security camera?"

"I don't know. David, Maggie and Ben are on the way to see the pawn broker and pick up the painting. He's going to call me when he knows more."

Charlie sat back, rubbing his arm. "This might be the break we need. If we can find out who the kid at the pawn shop was, maybe we can find Ellen's murderer."

Amita pulled the laptop closer to her. "If I do this, we can isolate anything we already have about Ellen Davis," she said as she tapped on the keyboard. "There. Now when David calls Don with his information, we can just add it here."

Alan cleared his throat. "Uh, may the mother hen make a suggestion here?"

Charlie and Don exchanged glances and then turned to face their father. "Sure," Don said.

"The two of you are tired and sore. When you get the call from David, you're going to want to be at your best, right?" He waited for their nods, and then continued, "So why don't you take a nap until that call comes?"

Charlie started to object, but Don interrupted. "Sounds like a great idea, Dad. But if I could make a suggestion, you need to get out of here for a while."

"Right. So you two can overtax yourselves and end up having a relapse."

"Dad," Charlie said, "I don't think you can have a relapse from a gunshot wound."

Alan scowled at Charlie. "I know you two. You'd find a way. All right. Amita, are you going to be here for a while?"

She glanced at her watch. "I can stay for three more hours. Is that long enough?"

"It'll have to be. I'm trusting you to..."

"... make sure we don't overdo it," Don and Charlie said in unison.

Amita laughed, "All right. They are making progress, don't you think? I mean, they do say the first step is admitting you have a problem."

--

Ben and Maggie were waiting when David pulled into the driveway, red and blue lights flashing. They climbed into the SUV, Ben in the front seat and Maggie in the back. "Well," Ben said after they'd gotten strapped into their seats and David had backed out of the driveway, "this will make quite the impression on the neighbors."

David chuckled. "At least I didn't turn on the sirens or cuff you."

"Been there, done that," Ben said. "It's an experience I don't care to repeat."

David gave Ben a sideways glance. "And you got security clearance with an arrest on your record?"

"Don't worry. I was framed."

David snickered. "Ah, an art crime, huh?"

Maggie laughed. "As a matter of fact, Ben was arrested for stealing a Monet and replacing it with a forgery. All charges were dropped, by the way, and Ben was a model prisoner for the one night he spent in jail."

"Well, enough of my checkered past," Ben said. "Are we really on our way to pick up the Van Gogh?"

"Looks that way. All we have right now is the word of a pawn broker. That's why I thought of you two. I'm assuming you can tell me whether it's the real thing. I also need your help with transporting it back to the office. I don't want to be responsible for damaging it."

"A pawn broker?" Maggie asked. "The thieves pawned a Van Gogh?"

"We're not sure if it was the thieves. The pawn broker said a kid brought it in, claiming it was a really old copy that belonged to his grandmother. The clerk gave him 200 for it. I'm hoping they can give us a good description."

"If we're really lucky," Ben said, "the pawn shop will have security cameras."

"It would be a wise choice in that particular neighborhood."

Ben had to agree as they pulled up in front of the pawn shop – an neat little oasis in the desert of crumbling buildings and crumbling people. When they stepped onto the sidewalk, Maggie took Ben's hand and held it tightly. They both felt the comfort of being accompanied by an armed federal agent. David led the way and knocked on the locked door. "Mr. Edelman?" He held his badge up to the glass. "I'm Special Agent Sinclair of the FBI."

A short bull of a man approached the door and unlocked the cluster of locks. "Please, come in," he said. "I'm Herman Edelman."

"David Sinclair. This is Dr. Ben Cole and Ms. Maggie Cole. I'd like them to have a look at the painting, if you don't mind."

"I would say I'm pleased to meet you all, but under the circumstances, 'pleased' doesn't seem to be quite the right word." Edelman pulled the door shut and reset the locks. "The painting is in the back room, along with my fool of a clerk. I assumed you would want to speak with him." As they walked toward the back of the store, he said, "I post all of the notices I receive about stolen items. I tell my employees to commit those notices to memory, but most of these kids are just biding their time here until they can get a job at Best Buy."

"Well, Mr. Edelman..."

"Herman. Please call me Herman."

"All right, Herman, I want you to know that we really do appreciate your conscientiousness."

"You're welcome. Down here, in this God-forsaken neighborhood, we depend on the police for our very lives. The least we can do is help you in your investigations. Here we are," Herman said, opening the door, and gesturing toward a sullen teenager seated in front of a massive wooden desk. "Agent Sinclair, this is Clark Fowler. He's the clerk who received this painting," Herman waved in the direction of a small portrait lying on his desk.

Ben and Maggie immediately approached the painting while David stood in front of Clark Fowler. "Good morning, Clark. Why don't you tell me everything that happened from the moment the customer came through the door with this painting?"

With a nervous glance at his boss, the boy took a deep breath. "Well, I was waiting on another customer, and this kid..."

"Can you give me a description? A rough idea of how old this kid was?"

Clark shrugged a skinny shoulder. "I don't really know. He was probably eighteen, maybe nineteen. He was a little taller and heavier than me. Not really fat, just kind of filled out more, you know? He had brown hair. I think his eyes were brown, but I'm not sure. Mr. Edelman?" Clark glanced at his boss. "Have you looked at the recording from the security camera yet?"

Edelman smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot all about it. Thank you, Clark, for reminding me." Turning to David, he said, "If you don't need me here, I'll go check..."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather wait and go over it with you, after I finish up with Clark."

"That's fine. I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier. Things have been just a little crazy around here."

"That's okay. So, Clark, what was this kid doing?"

"He just kind of hung around lookin' at stuff until the other customer left. Then he came right over to me and put this thing wrapped up in brown paper on the counter."

"What did the kid say?"

"He said he had this really old copy of a picture and wanted to know how much I could give him for it. He said his grandmother had it for years and gave it to him. I looked it over. It looked old, and I know Mr. Edelman likes antiques, so I took a chance and gave the kid the two hundred dollars. I guess I made a mistake..."

Edelman smiled. "No, Son, you didn't make a mistake at all. You know, I like my employees to take initiative, to try to learn the business. I'm sorry I jumped all over you."

"That's okay, Mr. Edelman. I'm going to start reading those notices you post.. I guess they're not such a waste of time after all."

David chuckled. "Unfortunately a lot of people look at them that way. So what happened after you gave the kid the money?"

"He shoved it in his pocket and said, 'thanks,' then hurried out like he was afraid I was going to change my mind."

"Thank you, Clark," David said. "Herman, why don't we go have a look at the video?"

David stepped back to let Herman lead the way to the CCTV system. He turned to Clark. "Would you mind coming with us?"

Clark shrugged "Sure. Anything I can do to help."

Ben and Maggie were seated at Herman's desk, examining the painting. David paused, resting a hand on Ben's shoulder. "You two going to be okay in here?"

"Hmm?" Ben looked up, surprised. "Oh, yes, right. We'll be fine. By the way, at first glance, this looks like the real thing."

"That's good to hear. I suppose it's too late to ask you to be careful of fingerprints."

"Not at all. I haven't really touched anything other than the edge of the frame. You don't happen to have any gloves with you, do you?"

David reached into his pockets and pulled out a wrinkled pair of latex gloves. "Here you go."

Ben pulled on the gloves. "Thanks. We should be done here in a few minutes. Perhaps we could impose on Mr. Kaplan for some packing materials to protect the painting."

"Gladly," Herman said. "I've got some bubble wrap, and we can probably find a box the right size."

"Thank you," Ben said. "That would be wonderful."

Ben turned back to the painting. He pulled Herman's desk lamp over and bent it to shine on the surface of the canvas. He ran one gloved finger gently over the surface of the painting, feeling Van Gogh's telltale brushstrokes. "It always amazes me," he murmured to Maggie, "that old Vincent always lived hand to mouth, scrimping on materials and even on basic necessities, and yet he slathered the paint on like it was free."

"Well, be grateful he had his priorities in order," Maggie said. "If he scrimped on paint and lived like a king, the art world would be the poorer for it."

"True." Ben picked up the painting by the frame and tilted it, studying the way the light hit the surface. "It's a truly humbling experience to handle such a work of genius. I always feel like I'm in the presence of God."

"Ben! What heresy!"

"No, that's not what I meant," Ben said with a laugh. "God gave Vincent van Gogh an incredible talent. I've dabbled in painting enough to know how exceptional the man was."

"Do you wish he'd given you that kind of talent?"

"Sometimes, yes. But then I remember how unhappy most of the great artists were, and I realize I would not want to give up a single day with you in exchange for being able to paint like Van Gogh."

Maggie kissed Ben on the cheek. "Good answer." She pulled away and nodded at the painting. "So it's the real thing?"

"In my humble opinion, yes. Most definitely." Ben stood. "Did you see where they headed?"

"This place isn't that big. I think we can find them."

Ben and Maggie followed the voices to a small closet of a room just behind the service desk. "There," Clark said, "That's the guy."

Herman paused the video. "I can give you a print if you'd like, Agent Sinclair."

"That would be great. I'm going to need the video too."

"Give me a minute and I'll burn a DVD for you."

"Thanks." David noticed Ben and Maggie. "How's it going with the painting?"

"I'm ninety nine percent sure it's the real thing," Ben said.

"Good. Clark, would you mind helping Dr. Cole wrap up the painting?"

"Sure, Agent Sinclair. Come on," Clark said, leading Ben and Maggie back to Herman's office.

Ben strapped himself into the front passenger's seat, and Maggie placed the box on his lap before climbing into the back seat. "You sure you don't want me to hold it?" she asked, grinning.

"No thank you. This is fine. David, did you want us to come back to the office with you?"

"If you don't mind," David said putting the SUV into gear. "I can have someone drive you home when we're finished."

"So," Ben said, "David, did you recognize the kid on the security recording?"

David pursed his lips and nodded. "I think so. We need to verify it, but I think he's that Spencer kid – the one who attacked Charlie at Cal Sci. The image quality wasn't great, but the techs can clean it up."

"Why not just show it to Charlie?" Maggie asked.

"I could. Knowing him, he's probably got a computer at the hospital."

"Let me give Liz a call and let her know what's going on," David said, pulling out his cell phone and dialing. "Hey, Liz, it's David. We've got the Van Gogh."

Ben was reluctant to leave the Van Gogh in the car, so he carried the box with him. As they approached the front door, Ben said, "Let's hope they don't decide to search us on the way in. I'll be bad enough bringing this through security at the FBI office. I don't want to explain to a hospital security guard what I'm doing."

Maggie shrugged. "Just tell them it's a gift for a patient."

"Strange gift," David said as he walked through the front door.

"Not in our circles," Ben said.

"Really?" David was skeptical. "You guys routinely exchange Van Goghs?"

"Not the real thing, of course, but good quality reproductions are not unheard of," Ben said.

David pushed the elevator call button. "Well, it's a moot question now anyway. We got this far without a problem. Now we just have to get past the nurses on Don and Charlie's floor."

--

Amita sat on Charlie's bed, his laptop on the tray table, and Charlie's head on her lap. Charlie and Don were both sleeping, and Alan was nowhere to be seen. Amita looked up and touched her finger to her lips, "Shhh."

David held up the DVD. "Hey, Amita," he whispered, "maybe you can help me with this. It's security footage from a pawn shop where someone tried pawning the stolen Van Gogh."

"Really?" She held out her hand for the DVD. "This should be interesting."

Charlie stirred and murmured in his sleep, and Amita gently massaged his scalp. "Shhh, Charlie. Go back to sleep." She popped the DVD into the drive.

At the sound of the DVD loading, Charlie's eyes opened. "Hmm? What's that?"

"David brought the video footage from the pawn shop," Amita said softly.

"The kid with the Van Gogh?" Charlie asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Don raised the head of his bed. "Let me see it, Amita."

"Both of you chill. Let me load the video and find the right spot, okay?"

Charlie reached up and played with a tendril of her hair. "Gee, Amita, you don't have to get mad."

"I'm not mad. You two just have to learn some patience."

Don chuckled. "If you'd hurry up, we wouldn't have to."

David leaned over and watched the black and white image on the screen. "There. That kid with the box. He just came in the door."

Amita zoomed in and tinkered with the image quality. When she was done, Charlie gasped. "It's Greg Spencer."


	31. Chapter 31

Don struggled to sit up. "The guy in the pawn shop was Greg Spencer? The guy who beat you up?"

Charlie's face reddened. "'Beat up' is taking it a little far, Don. But, yeah, he was one of them."

Don glanced at David. "And we still don't have him in custody?"

David shook his head. "No. Not yet. But we will."

"Until you do," Don said, "you should put a guard on Charlie."

"That's not necessary," Charlie objected. "There's no way I'm at any risk..."

"Says the man with a bullet wound in his arm and bruises all over his face," Don growled. "David, I want Charlie protected."

David drew himself to his full height and looked Don straight in the eye. "Don, you are on medical leave. In effect, that makes you a civilian. I am in charge of this case now, and I will be the one to decide what is the best use of our resources." He turned to Charlie, "And, Charlie, if I determine that you DO need protection, you will accept that protection graciously." He folded his arms across his chest and looked from Charlie to Don. "Both of you understand me?"

Don and Charlie stared slack-jawed at David. Alan laughed. "David, you have done the impossible. You have rendered both of my sons speechless!" He caught Maggie covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Maggie, you have kids don't you?"

"One son. I can see the trouble increases exponentially when you have more than one."

"Actually,..." Charlie started.

"Ben," Don interrupted, "is that the Van Gogh in that box?"

"Yes, it is."

"Really?" Alan stood. "A real Van Gogh? Could we see it?"

"I don't see why not," Ben said.

Don moved his feet to the far side of the bed. "Here. You can put the box down here."

Ben set the box on the foot of the bed and carefully opened it. Before lifting the painting from the box, he put on a pair of gloves.

Don raised the head of his bed and Alan and Amita moved in closer. Charlie swung his legs around and sat at the edge of his bed. At Alan's warning look, he said, "Hey, if I'm going to be going home tomorrow, I'm going to have to walk, right?"

Amita turned back to look at Charlie. "Let me help you," she said, walking back to his side and helping him stand. "I've got him, Alan."

"At least put your slippers on. They're under the bed, Amita."

While Charlie slowly crossed the room, Ben lifted the painting from the box. "This is a portrait of Van Gogh's mother. He wrote his brother a letter saying that he was doing a portrait of their mother for himself because he was tired of looking at the black and white photo he had of her. He said he was going to do a harmony of color as he remembered her."

"She has such kind eyes," Amita said softly. "And that little smile is so sweet."

"When did he paint it?" Don asked.

"Two years before he died," Maggie said.

"He killed himself, didn't he?" Charlie asked, shifting awkwardly, trying to keep his balance.

Maggie picked up the box. "Yes, he did. Why don't you sit here, before you fall, Charlie?"

"Thanks," Charlie said as he eased himself down onto the edge of Don's bed. "He must have loved her very much." He reached toward the canvas, but kept from touching it. "Right there, around the eyes, she resembles her son. Or," he said, smiling, "I guess he resembles her."

"I hadn't noticed that before, but you're right," Ben said.

"He was amazing, wasn't he?" Alan said. "With those big, bold strokes, he managed to capture the image beautifully. What a genius." He glanced at Charlie. "And I have some experience with geniuses."

"Not that kind," Charlie murmured.

There was a knock at the door and Nurse Mary Ryan entered. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just need to check their vitals. Would you like me to come back?"

"That's okay," Alan said. "I think we're about done here anyway."

Maggie held the box while Ben put the painting back. Amita helped Charlie back to bed.

"That's a pretty picture," Mary said. "It looks like a Van Gogh."

Ben and Alan exchanged glances. "It is," Ben said.

"Really? Mind if I have a look?" Ben held the box so she could see the painting. "Oh my gosh! That's the one that was stolen, isn't it? I saw a thing about it on the news."

"Yes, it is," David said. "We're just getting ready to take it back to the FBI office, but since these two were injured while working on the case, I thought they'd like to see it."

"Wow," she said. "That is amazing. Along with their vitals, maybe I should get their autographs."

"You should," David said. "Well, I think we'd better get back to the office and leave you to your duties."

Amita popped the DVD from the drive and handed it to David. "Let me know if you need me to do any enhancements on it."

"Thanks, I will. But Charlie identified the kid. That should be enough." David slipped the DVD back into its case. "So, when are these two getting out of here? The nurses must be tired of them by now."

Alan laughed. "Actually, they've been behaving themselves. I think the drugs have something to do with that. What do you think, Mary?"

"They've both been model patients," she said, looking up from the blood pressure monitor beside Don's bed.

"Anyway," Alan said, "we're hoping I can bring them home tomorrow if everything goes well."

"Tomorrow? That's fast!" David said.

"Well," Don said, "we are young and healthy..."

"And," Charlie added, "studies have shown that patients recuperate better in the home environment. Especially with the high incidence of infections being transmitted in hospitals."

Don grimaced. "Our being young and healthy sounds a lot better to me. Now I think I'll see if we can get out of here today."

Mary finished making note of Don's vitals and moved on to Charlie. "Actually, we've been taking precautions to stop the spread of infection here for years. If you check our results, you'll see we are doing an excellent job."

"There you go," Alan glared at Charlie. "Not that I don't want to see you two come home, but don't rush it. You're better off listening to your doctor's advice, not some studies."

David patted Alan on the shoulder. "Good luck with these two. Call me if you need anything. I can probably sneak you two pairs of handcuffs."

"Thanks, David. I think I can handle them. They've both been shot, so they're a lot slower than normal."

"That was nice of them to stop by and let us know what was going on," Amita said after David, Ben and Maggie left.

"It was," Alan said, "I loved seeing the Van Gogh up close." He grinned at the nurse. "I think Mary here was impressed too."

"I was," she said. "I still can't believe it was the real thing."

There was a knock at the door, and Dr. Torre entered the room. "Good afternoon, folks. How are our patients doing today?"

"Ready to get out of here. No offense," Don said.

"None taken." He looked at the charts Mary handed him. "Your stats look good. Your temperatures are both normal, and everything looks good. You feeling all right? Don?"

"A little sore, but well enough to go home."

"I'm bringing them to Charlie's house," Alan explained. "I'll be there to take care of both of them, Doctor."

"I expected no less," Dr. Torre said, grinning. "Charlie? How are you feeling?"

Charlie moved his arm gingerly, "Sore."

"That's to be expected. Let's have a look." He handed Mary the charts and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. Turning to Alan and Amita, he said, "Would you two excuse us for a few minutes?"

Amita kissed Charlie and took Alan's arm. "Come on. I don't think this is anything either of us needs to see."

"If Don and Charlie don't mind, I think I should watch so I know what to do," Alan said.

"Works for me," Charlie said. "Dad's been tending to our cuts and bruises for over thirty years."

Don shrugged. "It's fine with me. You can watch, but I'm not going to."

Amita rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't want to be the weak little girl. I guess I'm staying too."

Charlie squeezed her hand. "You are anything but a weak little girl. You're one of the strongest women I know. If you don't want to watch, nobody will think any less of you."

She bent and kissed him. "Anyone want coffee?"

"I'd like some tea," Charlie said, glancing at the doctor, "if that's okay, that is."

"You can eat or drink whatever you want. Your brother's the one who has to be careful," Dr. Torre said as he began to pull the tape from Charlie's skin.

Once the bandages were changed, Dr. Torre said, "Well, you're both looking good. Barring any problems overnight, I think you'll be able to leave us tomorrow. Charlie, you need to take it easy with that arm. You did damage the bone, so keep using the sling. Don, you're going to need to take it even easier. Mary will show you how to get up out of bed. You have to minimize any strain on those abdominals. You don't want to pop those stitches."

"When can I go back to work?" Don asked.

"You're an FBI field agent?" Dr. Torre continued when Don nodded, "I would say at least six weeks. Just because this was minor as gunshot wounds go, it is not a minor injury. You'll find your body needs a lot of rest to recuperate from the trauma. You're in good condition, but you'll find that you tire easily, and as you wean yourself from the painkillers, you're going to experience quite a bit of discomfort."

Alan chuckled. "Getting Donnie to take it easy will not be easy."

"Well," Dr. Torre said, "I'm hoping he'll pay attention to the signals his body gives him. As his attending physician, I'm the one who has to sign the papers releasing him back to duty." He narrowed his eyes at Don. "And I do not take that responsibility lightly. The longer Agent Eppes resists, the longer he'll just be plain ol' Mr. Eppes."

Amita giggled. "And how about this Mr. Eppes? How long until he's back to being Professor Eppes?"

"Now, that shouldn't take quite as long. Charlie's injury is less serious, and his job is less strenuous. I would say two weeks should do it. But," he gave Charlie the same glare he had given Don, "I am going to have to monitor your recovery too. I'm assuming you'll be out on some kind of disability, which means you'll need my permission to go back to work, too."

"Chuck," Don said, "I'm not a profiler, but I'm thinking our good doctor here is a bit of a control freak."

Charlie laughed. "At the very least, he enjoys wielding power over helpless patients."

"Well," Dr. Torre said, grinning, "what good is power if you can't use it? I'll see you two tomorrow morning before I sign your release papers. And, Mary, when you get a chance, can you explain the home aftercare to these gentlemen?" He pulled off his latex gloves and tossed them into the wastebasket. "See you tomorrow."

"Now," Alan said, "there's a doctor who knows his stuff."

--

David pulled in to the FBI parking garage. "Thanks for coming along," he said to Ben and Maggie as they walked toward the elevator. "I'm surprised that turned out to be the real Van Gogh."

"Me too, to be honest," Ben said. "Felicia Agincourt seemed a lot smarter than that."

"I don't think it was her idea," David said. "I have a feeling at least one of their gang members decided to go into business for himself. Now, Greg is one of Charlie's students. He seems to be buddies with two other students. The three of them have been missing."

"You're thinking the other two missing students are involved with Greg," Maggie said, nodding. "Does that mean Charlie is still in danger?"

"Despite what Don says, I don't think so. This has gone beyond pressuring Charlie to keep out of this case. They have nothing to gain by harming him at this point. I think they're trying to get some quick bucks for some reason."

"Perhaps they're trying to get away from the rest of the gang." Ben said as they exited the elevator. "I imagine losing the Van Gogh will get them in a lot of trouble with whoever is left in the gang."

"You don't think they're going to try to get it back, do you?" Maggie said, looking a little worried.

"Nah," David said, "that would be stupid. Besides, it'll be secure here, locked away with the rest of the evidence."

"I don't know," Maggie said, "it was pretty secure in the Norton Simon. And if there is enough of Felicia's gang still out there, they're not going to be very happy with Greg Spencer."

Ben nodded. "I think I see where you're heading with this, Maggie. Greg's life might be in danger, and he might see getting the Van Gogh back as a way to save himself."

David sighed. "And we've already found at least one connection to the gang inside this office."

Colby looked up as they entered the bullpen. "Hey, I was beginning to think you were taking off with that Van Gogh. That is the Van Gogh, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Granger. It's the Van Gogh. We stopped by to talk to Don and Charlie. Charlie recognized the kid who pawned it. Greg Spencer."

Colby whistled. "It sounds like we'd better find that kid. Actually, all three of them have disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Maybe Charlie can do one of his pursuit things or something," David said, pulling out his cell phone. "I'll give him a call and get him started on it. While I'm doing that, can you get this into evidence? There's a possibility the gang might still try to get their hands on it. There's also a possibility we have a second mole in this office."

Colby nodded. "Want me to take it to LAPD?"

"Good idea," David said. "Get ahold of Lt. Walker. He'll know who we can trust over there."


	32. Chapter 32

"Granger!" Lt. Walker stepped forward and pumped Colby's hand. "Good to see you again."

"Good to see you, Gary. Thanks for helping us out with this."

"Any time. Say, how're Eppes and the Professor doing?" Walker asked as he led the way to the evidence locker.

"Great. They're both going home tomorrow."

Walker chuckled. "Papa Eppes is going to have his hand full with those two. Here we are." Walker came to a stop and entered a code in a keypad next to the door. The lock released and Walker pulled the door open. "After you."

Colby handed Walker the package. "I don't know if Alan knows what he's getting himself into. Don's going to be out of work for a few weeks, so I imagine he'll be making Alan's life miserable."

Walker glanced around the room. Satisfied that he, Colby and the gray haired officer behind the window were the only ones in earshot, he said, "Clinton, I need to check this in for Special Agent Granger here. The three of us are the only ones who will know that this package is here. You got that?"

Clinton smirked at Walker. "How long we been working together, Lieutenant? You know I got it, or you wouldn't even be here." Clinton processed the paperwork and took the package from Walker. He handed Walker a clipboard and grinned as Walker filled in the "contents" box on the form. "Really? You got dirty jock straps in that thing?"

Walker returned the clipboard. "Of course. Have I ever lied to you?"

"Nope." He turned to Colby. "Agent Granger, when you need this back, you see me. Nobody else."

"Thanks, Clinton. I appreciate this."

Clinton chuckled. "Who else you gonna trust with your dirty jock straps?"

--

David looked up from his computer as Colby returned to the bullpen. "Walker took care of you? The painting is secure?"

"Oh, yeah," Colby said with a grin. "I guarantee you nobody will be touching that package. Any luck finding the three students?"

David sighed and shook his head. "Nope. But Charlie and Amita are working on it. It helps that they both know the three students."

"Are Ben and Maggie still here?"

"Yeah. They're at Don's desk, using his computer to try to find anything on the other two stolen pictures. I have a feeling the other two items are safely tucked away someplace only Felicia or Francis knows about, but they didn't want to leave."

Colby chuckled. "Looks like we've gotten a couple more professors hooked on crime fighting."

"Hey, guys," Liz entered the bullpen carrying a box. "We just finished going through Felicia's house and office."

"What'd you find?" David said, clearing a spot on the desk.

"Well, unfortunately Felicia didn't document her illegal activities, but she is a doodler." She held up a stack of crumpled papers. "I found these in her wastebasket."

"It looks like scribbles to me," Colby said.

"Yeah," Liz said, "but have you ever watched a doodler in action? They scribble layers and layers of notes. Phone numbers, dates, names, whatever, and then they scribble them out."

David grinned, "And you're suggesting we just might know a guy who can separate the layers in Felicia's doodles."

--

Charlie closed his cell phone and turned to Amita. "Well, we've got a couple of assignments from the lead agent on the case."

"Temporary lead agent," Don grumbled. "What'd David want you to do now?"

"First, he needs help finding Greg Spencer, Jason LoBella and Daniel Weimar. They've all disappeared. Since Greg had the Van Gogh that his cousin stole, David's guessing that Greg is in a lot of trouble with the remaining members of Felicia's gang."

"They're going to try to get it back," Don said.

"David says it's in a secure place."

"Did he tell you where?"

"No. He said it's better for me if I don't know."

"And yet he's not going to assign someone to protect you."

"He's convinced they have no reason to go after me. The case is solved. The leaders of the gang are in custody. They no longer see me as a risk."

"So," Alan said, "he wants you to do one of your pursuit things or something to figure out where they've gone."

Charlie nodded. "Right..."

"It should be easier than that," Amita said. "All three are students. I'll bet their cell phone numbers are in the student directory."

Don laughed. "Why didn't we think of that? Once we have their cell phone numbers, we'll be able to find them using the GPS in their phones. Maybe we should be paying the big bucks to Dr. Ramanujan instead of you, Charlie."

As Amita logged into her Cal Sci account to look up the students' information, Charlie gave Don a sheepish grin. "In my defense, I was distracted. David's other request was a lot more interesting. Liz is scanning and emailing me a stack of papers Felicia doodled on. She'd like us to make some sense of the doodles."

"Really?" Amita said, glancing up from the computer. "Are you thinking of using a wavelet transform?"

"I thought I'd try the maximum entropy method. Liz says it looks like Felicia would doodle on a notepad while she was on the phone, or meeting with people. She's hoping Felicia wrote down meaningful things like phone numbers and names and doodled all over them until they were completely concealed."

Don raised the head of his bed. "So you're going to clean away the crap like you did with that gang art Zeke Gibbs did."

"Yeah, exactly," Charlie said. "It's a longshot, but Liz says it looks like Felicia was a compulsive doodler, so there might be something there."

"How many images are there?" Amita asked.

"She said there's a stack," Charlie said with a shrug. "I don't know how big a stack it is. But I'm stuck here until sometime tomorrow, and this will be a lot more fun than playing minesweeper."

"Chuck, you have a really bizarre idea of fun," Don said. "Is Liz coming over?"

Charlie quirked an eyebrow at his brother. "I thought David said she was going to email the images. You want me to call him back and send her over to keep you company?"

"Okay," Amita said, "I've got their phone numbers."

Charlie dialed his cell phone. "David?... Yeah, it's Charlie. Listen, Amita came up with the idea of looking for Greg, Jason and Daniel's cell phone numbers in the Cal Sci directory. Here she is." he handed Amita the phone.

As Amita gave David the phone numbers, Charlie said, "Don? You want Amita to ask David to send Liz over?"

"Shaddup," Don said.

"Shhhh," Amita said, "Both of you! I can't hear David." When she finished the phone call, she scowled at Charlie and then at Don. "I don't know how your father puts up with the two of you."

"Us?" Don asked, putting on his best innocent face.

"We're his little angels," Charlie added.

Amita snorted. "Yeah, right." She gave Charlie a quick kiss. "Well, you may be able to sleep until noon, but I've got classes to teach. Including some of yours."

"And I do appreciate that," Charlie said, touching her cheek and kissing her. "But if you think I'll be able to sleep until noon, you've obviously never been in a hospital. They wake us up at the crack of dawn around here."

"True," said Don. "And they even wake us up to give us our sleeping pills."

"They need to knock you out so you'll stop giving them a hard time?"

"Hey!" Don objected. "The nurse said we were model patients."

"Yeah," Alan chuckled, "because they're keeping you doped up." He stood as Amita picked up her bag. "You take care of yourself, Amita. You planning on visiting tomorrow?"

"Of course," Amita smiled.

"Good. Just call before you come over. With any luck, I'll have these two home tomorrow."

"You sure you can handle them?"

"I'll ask that nurse, Mary, for some knock out drops in case they get too mouthy."

Mary Ryan came into the room, carrying a tray full of equipment. "Did I just hear my name?"

Don laughed. "Yeah. Listen, I'm an FBI agent, and if my father tries to get you to help him dope us up, don't listen to him, okay?"

"Oh, I won't." She set the tray down on Don's bedside table. "I've got good news for you. It's time to remove your catheter and I.V.s. Dr. Torre wants you up and around a bit today, in preparation for your release tomorrow."

She closed the curtain separating Don's bed from the rest of the room. "We'll just need a bit of privacy for a few minutes."

Charlie's computer beeped, and he looked down at the screen. "All right! Liz's emails are here."

Amita walked back to Charlie's side to look at the images. "Oh, my. They're a mess," she said.

Charlie grinned up at her. "You sure you don't want to stay and help?"

"I'll come back later. I have a feeling you'll still be working on them when I get back." She bent and gave him a kiss. "Love you," she murmured.

Charlie touched her cheek gently. "I love you, too. See you later."

As Amita left the room, she turned toward Don's curtain. "Bye, Don!"

"Ouch. Bye, Amita."

--

Colby entered the bullpen carrying a handful of printouts. "We got the cell phone records for the three students. And the techs are going to let us know of any other activity from the three phones."

"Good," David said. "Liz just finished emailing the doodles to Charlie. I'll be surprised if he comes up with anything useful."

Colby chuckled. "I've stopped being surprised by anything the Whiz Kid can do."

David stood. "You've got a good point there. Why don't you and Liz go through those records and see where those kids are. I'm going to see how Ben and Maggie are doing."

Ben and Maggie were seated side by side at the conference room table, sharing a laptop. They looked up when David entered. "Any luck?" he asked.

Ben shook his head. "Nothing on the Michelangelo yet. There have been rumors about the Rembrandt, but so far, nothing firm."

"What kind of rumors?" David asked, pulling out a chair across the table.

"A dealer in Chicago got an anonymous phone call asking if he'd heard there was a Rembrandt on the market. Another dealer in London received an email from a woman claiming she could put him in touch with the seller of a Rembrandt. For a fee."

Maggie sighed. "They both sound like scams."

David nodded. "Yeah, they do. Listen, any time you guys want to go home, I can have someone give you a ride."

Ben checked his watch. "Maybe we should take you up on that. What do you think, Luv?"

"We can keep track of the chatter from home," Maggie said. "David, we'll call you if we find anything. And you can call us if you have anything else you'd like us to look at."

"Thank you both. I appreciate everything you've done for us."

--

Mary opened the curtain, and revealed a grinning Don. "I'm free!" he exclaimed.

"You're going to have to be careful of how you move," Mary said. "When you want to get out of bed, roll onto your side and push yourself up until you can sit. That avoids straining your stitches. You might want to have someone help you the first few times you want to walk, because you're going to be a little unsteady on your feet."

"I'd like to get up now," Don said, rolling gingerly onto his side.

"Don't you think you should wait, Donnie?" Alan asked, starting to stand.

"Nah. I've been waiting for this moment." Don grunted as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He paused, catching his breath, and noticed Alan and Charlie staring at him. "This is a little harder than I expected it to be."

He let Mary take his arm and help him to his feet. "Okay," she said, "take your time."

When they reached the bathroom, Mary closed the door and waited outside. "I'm right here," she said, "in case you need any help."

"I've been doing this by myself for a long time now."

"I know," Mary said, "but how long have you been doing it with a bullet wound in your belly?"

"Yeah, okay, you've got me there." The toilet flushed, and a few moments later, the door opened. "Let me wash my hands first, then I'll be ready for the return trip." Don gazed into the mirror as he washed his hands. "Dad," he said, touching his jaw, "you didn't happen to bring my razor, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, I brought your electric shaver. You can shave in bed."

"That's not a bad idea." He glanced at Mary. "Do you think I could take a shower?"

"Why don't you wait until you're a little steadier on your feet? Maybe tomorrow morning before you're released?"

"Sounds good to me." Don started to head back to his bed.

"Don!" Charlie looked up from his computer. "Can you stop here and have a look at this?"

"You got something already?" Don hobbled toward his brother.

Mary pulled a chair over to the bed. "Here. You'd better sit."

"Thanks," Don eased himself into the chair. "What've you got, Buddy?"

"Most of the images are a real mess, but this one, I was actually able to make out some information without running my program."

Don leaned close and squinted at the screen. "That looks like a phone number. And that looks like part of an address."

Charlie opened his internet browser. "I'll just Google the phone number and see what I can find out." He typed a few digits, shook his head and backspaced impatiently.

"Left handed typing not going so well?" Don asked, smirking.

"No, it's not." He glanced over at Alan, who was immersed in his reading, and slipped his right arm out of the sling. After giving Don a warning glare, he typed the number into Google. "Oh, crap," he muttered, turning the computer so Don could see the screen.

Don's eyes widened and he struggled to his feet. "I've got to call David."


	33. Chapter 33

David had just unwrapped the formerly hot roast beef sandwich Colby had dropped off for him when his cell phone rang. Giving his sandwich a look of regret, he glanced at the caller ID and flipped the phone open. "Yeah, Don?"

"David, Charlie had a look at those scribbles Liz sent..."

"Don't tell me he found something!"

"He found a phone number and a partial address. He googled the phone number, and it belongs to Amber Adams."

"Why's that name sound familiar?" David sat up and pulled a pad and pen over.

"She's the head of security at the Getty. We talked to her the day the Rembrandt was stolen."

David chuckled. "She's the one who yelled at Charlie for touching a painting."

"You're right! I forgot about that. I wonder if Charlie's just trying to frame her because she gave him a hard time."

David laughed as he heard Charlie's voice in the background. "Sounds like he doesn't agree with your assessment, Don. Listen, give me the phone number and I'll get her records. And give me the partial address too. We might as well get the techs started on it." David wrote the information as Don recited it. "I'll get right on it."

"David? Have you had anything to eat yet today?" Don asked.

"What're you? Psychic? I had just sat down for a sandwich when you called."

"Eat your sandwich first. Amber can wait five minutes."

"There's too much to do," David grumbled.

"Now you know how I feel. Eat your sandwich. You gotta take care of yourself if you're going to stay on top of this case."

David grinned. "Okay, Boss. You getting out of there tomorrow?"

"You'd better believe it. Maybe I'll talk Dad into bringing us by to say hi on the way home."

"Uh, Don, this isn't on your way home."

"You got me. Hey, David, hang in there, okay? You know you've got a great team working with you."

"I know. And we all learned from the very best. You and Charlie take care, okay? I'll keep you posted."

David flipped his phone shut and picked up the sandwich.

"Hey, David," Colby entered, waving a sheaf of papers. "Those kids are still in the area. They haven't used their phones today, but yesterday LoBella and Weimar used their phones on campus, and both called Spencer, who was downtown." Colby stopped, noticing the sandwich in David's hand. "Oh, man. You haven't eaten that thing yet? It must be ice cold."

"Pretty much. Listen," he ripped the top page from his pad and handed it to Colby, "Charlie found this phone number in Felicia's doodles. It's Amber Adams' number. She's the head of security at the Getty."

Colby whistled as he took the sheet. "The Whiz Kid comes through again. What's this other stuff? One dash four dash S Mrn?"

"Charlie thinks it's part of an address."

"What? The Whiz Kid couldn't narrow it down a little bit more?"

David chuckled. "You're fickle, Granger. Charlie's working on the other scribbles Liz sent him. Just see if you can come up with anything that makes sense. But concentrate on Amber Adams. She's the strongest lead we've gotten in a while."

"Okay, I'll pull the records while you eat your lunch. Or is it breakfast? Or supper?"

"All of the above," David bit into the sandwich. After he swallowed, he said, "Why don't you leave the kids' phone records with me? I'll look them over while I eat."

"Okay. I can think of a lot more interesting meal time reading. Like the back of a ketchup bottle," Colby laughed as he put the sheaf of papers on the desk in front of David.

--

Liz glanced up as Colby entered the room. "I got another hit on Spencer's phone. I was just getting ready to run the number he called and see who it belongs to."

Colby held up the sheet David had given to him. "I guess it would be too much of a coincidence if it was this number."

Liz glanced at the sheet. "Nope. That's not it."

"Ah, that would have made life too easy." Colby pulled a chair over.

"Where'd that number come from?"

"Believe it or not, Charlie found it in your doodles. He found this address fragment on the same sheet. That's all he's come up with so far, but it's a start."

"And you guys thought this doodle thing was crazy."

"I never said that!"

Liz raised her eyebrows at him. "You didn't have to say a thing. It was written all over your face. So do we know whose number it is yet?"

"Amber Adams, head of security at the Getty."

"Okay, it's time to start going after Ms. Adams' phone records." Liz began typing the information.

"I'll check on this address fragment and see what I can find," Colby wheeled his chair over to his desk and began working.

--

Twenty minutes later, the three agents converged in the conference room. "Amber Adams has received calls from Greg Spencer and Ellen Davis," Liz began. "And she received a call from Felicia, and placed a call to her."

"I think it's time we paid Ms. Adams a visit. You want to handle that, Liz?" David made a note in his pad. He caught the others watching him and grinned, "It's my 'to-do' list. I don't want to forget anything."

"Trying to impress the boss-man?" Colby chuckled. "If you screw up, he won't leave you in charge again."

"Maybe I should just screw up then. I am not enjoying this at all. So what did you guys find out about the address?"

"It would have been faster to turn Charlie loose on it," Colby glanced at the paper in front of him. "But doing things the old fashioned way, I came up with four possible addresses in the LA. area."

"Anybody of interest?" David asked.

"Well, one is a part time janitor at the Norton Simon. A lady named Greta Reynolds. I was planning on paying her a visit when we're finished here."

"Good idea. Is she working today?"

"She works at ten tonight. The director said he could meet me there at nine thirty."

"That's great. Anybody else?"

"Well, I checked against our files, and another possibility is the place Ben and Maggie are renting."

"Damn," David exclaimed. "Did you..."

"I called Ben. It went to his voice mail, so I left him a message. And I called LAPD. They're sending a unit over there to make sure everything's okay. They're gonna call my cell and let me know what's going on."

"How long ago?"

"Just before we came in here."

"Come on," David stood. "Let's go."

--

Ben paid the taxi driver and got out of the cab. He held the door for Maggie as she slid across the seat toward him.

"Dr. Cole?" a voice behind him made Ben jump.

Ben turned to face the speaker. "Yes? Can I ..." he stopped as he saw the young man pointing a gun at him. He stepped in front of Maggie and pushed her back into the car. "What do you want?"

"I want the Van Gogh."

"I'm afraid the FBI has it."

"But I saw you with it. Outside the pawn shop."

Ben held up his hands and took a step toward the gunman. "I took it to the FBI office. You don't honestly think they would let me carry a priceless Van Gogh around Los Angeles, do you?"

The gunman hesitated. "I... I guess not." He stopped speaking, listening to approaching sirens.

Ben took another step toward the gunman. "Put the gun down. Would it be a cliché to say 'you'll never get away with it?'"

The gunman looked wildly around. The sirens grew louder. "You don't understand. I need that painting. They're going to kill me.."

"Who? Who's going to kill you? The FBI can protect you, you know."

"Yeah, right. Look at how well they protected Agent Eppes and the professor. Not to mention Ellen. No thanks. I'm not going to end up with a bullet in my like they did. You're not lying to me, are you? The FBI really does have the painting?"

"I'm not lying. I took it to their office myself." Ben stepped closer. "Just give me the gun and let the FBI take you in. You can help them get whoever's after you before they get to you."

The young man waved the gun wildly. "No! Get back!" He glanced around. The sirens sounded like they were a block away. Finally, he swore, threw the gun at Ben and ran away.

"Come on!" David shouted at the minivan that had pulled in front of him. "What do you think the lights and siren mean, idiot?" He laid on the horn and the minivan finally pulled over. David scowled at the driver as he roared past.

Colby felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and flipped it open. "Granger... Yeah... Crap... Okay, we're about five minutes out... Is everybody okay?... All right. We'll see you there." He flipped the phone shut and said, "That was Walker. Some guy with a gun was waiting when Ben and Maggie got home."

"Aw, damn," David muttered. "Are they okay?"

"They're fine," Colby said. "The guy took off without firing a shot."

When the agents arrived, the normally quiet neighborhood was a hive of police activity. Squad cars blocked the intersection half a block from Ben and Maggie's apartment. An officer waved for David to stop and approached, asking to see his ID.

As David showed his badge, he asked the officer, "What happened? Are Dr. and Mrs. Cole all right?"

"They're fine, Agent Sinclair. Apparently the gunman was waiting for them. But he heard us approaching and took off. Nobody got hurt, thank God. Lieutenant Walker is waiting at the scene for you." He waved for the squad cars to let David pass.

Before David had even come to a complete halt, Lieutenant Gary Walker approached the SUV. "Sinclair," he called as David got out of the SUV, "we meet again."

"Gary," David chuckled, "are you involved in every case in LA?"

"At least the ones involving Eppes's team. Everybody's over here, at the taxi." He turned and led the way to the taxi. "How are Eppes and the Professor doing?"

"Good. It was actually Charlie who found part of this address in some doodles Liz sent him."

"Doodles? Really? That kid never ceases to amaze me. Here we go."

Ben leaned against the taxi, his arm around Maggie's shoulders. He looked up as Walker brought the agents over. "David, Liz, Colby, it's good to see you. You got here quickly."

"Are you okay?"

Ben and Maggie nodded. Maggie sighed and snuggled closer to her husband. "Ben talked him out of shooting us."

"Really?" David raised his eyebrows at Ben. "You missed your calling. You feel up to giving me your statement?"

"Of course," Ben gave David a shaky smile. "It's easiest now while it's still fresh in my mind."

"Okay. Liz, why don't you get Maggie's statement? Colby, how about you talk to the taxi driver?"

The driver, a slender Asian man wearing a Dodgers cap, stepped forward to shake Colby's hand. "I'm Gene Yang. I'm afraid I didn't see a whole lot."

"I'm Special Agent Granger. Whatever you saw could be helpful. Why don't we go over and sit on the front steps over there? This'll just be a minute."

"Sure. No problem. I radioed my boss and told him I'd be tied up here for a while." He pocketed his keys and led the way to the steps. "I told that English guy he was as cool as double oh seven. I can't believe he's just an art teacher."

Colby laughed. "Yeah, teachers can be surprising."

After they had taken everybody's statements, sent Gene Yang on his way, and compared notes, the agents were able to piece the story together. Ben had effectively blocked Maggie's view and, for the most part, Gene's view. But they had heard his conversation with the gunman. Unfortunately, Ben was the only one who had a clear view of the gunman. "You sure it wasn't the guy on the pawn shop's security video?" David asked.

"I'm sure," Ben said. "Though he was around the same age and build."

David went to the SUV and pulled out photographs of the three students who had made Charlie's life miserable. "Did he look like any of these guys?"

Ben pointed at the photo of Jason LoBella. "That's him. Who are these boys?"

David exchanged glances with Liz and Colby. "You're sure it's him?"

Ben took the photograph and looked closely at it. "Definitely." He handed the photograph back to David, "I have a very good visual memory. It's helpful in my business."

"Like Charlie with numbers," Liz said. "These three are the students who filed the complaint against Charlie. This one," she pointed to Greg, "attacked him. He's also the cousin of the woman who stole the first painting. The one who was murdered. And Jason," she pointed at the photo Ben had identified, "someone driving his car shot at Charlie."

Ben whistled. "Do you think they killed Ellen Davis?"

David nodded. "It's possible. We're trying to track them down now."

"Too bad I couldn't place him under citizen's arrest."

Maggie gasped. "I'm glad you didn't think of that! Ben, you were very lucky he didn't shoot you."

"I was just kidding," Ben gave Maggie a squeeze. Turning to David, he asked, "Do you think we're still at risk?"

"No, not really. From what you said, I think they realize you don't have the painting. We should probably increase security at the FBI just in case. It doesn't sound like we're dealing with the sharpest tools in the shed here. I can picture them trying to break in and steal it from the FBI."

Colby chuckled. "It'd be nice if the criminals came to us for once."

"Hey, Sinclair," Lt. Walker approached, holding an evidence bag. "Here's the kid's gun. My guys haven't found anything else yet."

"Thanks. How long after the event did your people get here?" David asked, taking the gun from Walker.

Walker looked at Ben and Maggie and shrugged. "I don't know. Five minutes, maybe? The guy was long gone when we got here."

Ben nodded. "That sounds about right, though I did lose track of time after he pointed that gun at me."

"Yeah, that's understandable," Walker said. "Well, I'll leave this to you gentlemen, and ladies. I've got another call – a group of perps who didn't toss the gun and run away."

"Goodnight, Gary." David said, "We'll see you later."


	34. Chapter 34

"All right! Real food!" Don rubbed his hands together as the tray was placed in front of him.

Rosie from food services grinned at Don. "Well, Son, it's nice to see you're feeling up to eating today."

Don noticed the confused expressions on Charlie and Alan's faces. "Rosie and I are old friends. She talked me into eating while you two were down in the emergency room. Rosie, this is my dad, Alan, and my brother, Charlie."

"Well, it's nice to meet both of you." She put Charlie's tray on his table. "You're looking chipper. You had your big brother pretty worried last time I saw him. He said it was okay if I prayed for you."

Charlie smiled, shaking his head, "You know, they've done studies about the effect of prayer, and the most recent studies have debunked..."

Alan interrupted him. "Charlie, don't be rude. Rosie, that was very sweet of you, and we appreciate it."

Charlie gave Rosie a sheepish grin. "We do appreciate it, Rosie. Thank you."

"That's better," Alan nodded. "Charlie's brain runs on numbers, not on faith."

"That's okay," Rosie chuckled as she pushed the cart towards the door. "I ain't gonna stop because of any numbers. I guess you could say my brain runs on faith, not on numbers. You two gents enjoy your dinners. Alan, the cafeteria has some very good stew today."

Alan stood. "I think I'll go check it out. Tomorrow I'll have to go back to cooking for these two. Might as well enjoy my last night out."

"Hey, there's no reason we can't get takeout when we get home," Charlie held his fork awkwardly in his left hand. "Pizza would be good. Something that doesn't require utensils."

"I was thinking Chinese," Don laughed, "I want to see you using chopsticks with your left hand."

"You're a cruel, cruel man," Charlie said. "Dad, make Donnie stop picking on me."

"You're on your own there, Son. I'm on my break now." Alan waved as he left the room.

Once Alan was gone, Charlie slipped his right arm out of the sling. Don scowled. "You sure that's a good idea, Buddy? You don't want to make your arm worse."

Charlie shrugged. "I know, but if I try to eat with my left hand, it's gonna be a mess."

"It looked to me like you were doing okay. You don't usually give up like that. I thought you were going to use this as research for your whole math of the brain thing."

Charlie sighed. "You're right." He slipped his arm back into the sling, wincing. "Actually, it shouldn't be that hard to retrain my brain to do things left handed."

"Yeah, Buddy, with your brain, it should be a cinch."

Charlie watched Don for a moment. "How are you doing, Don? You feeling okay?"

"Yeah. Sore, you know? And weak, like a baby. But I'll be fine. Why?"

Charlie swallowed a mouthful of mixed vegetables. "It was all pretty scary. When Rosie mentioned you being worried when I was in the ER, well, it kind of brought everything back. We both had close calls, didn't we?"

Don stirred his mashed potatoes. "Yeah, we did." He turned to Charlie, pain in his eyes, "I mean, with my job, I kind of expect it, you know? But you? This shouldn't be happening to you, Buddy."

"Well, the closer I get to your work, the more at risk I am."

"Maybe you shouldn't..."

"Don't even think about it. You're stuck with me, Bro."

"Dad's handling it better than I expected."

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah. Remember when he freaked out when those Charm School Boys shot you?"

"Oh, right, Dad freaked out. I seem to remember you going off the deep end for a while there."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Charlie grinned sheepishly. "But I've gotten better at handling it, you know?" He picked up a roll and glanced at the butter. "Now this will be an interesting task one-handed."

Don laughed. "Why don't you write an algorithm or something for it?" When Charlie glared at him, Don continued, "Or you could get up out of bed, bring it to me, and I could butter it for you."

Charlie pushed his bedside table aside and eased himself out of bed, hissing when his feet hit the floor.

"You okay, Buddy?"

"The floor's cold." He picked up the butter and roll in his left hand, he walked to Don's side. "Hurry, my feet are freezing."

Don split the roll and buttered it. "You're welcome," he said, grinning, as he handed the roll back.

"Thanks!" Charlie said, hurrying back to bed.

--

Alan brought his tray to an empty table in the corner of the hospital cafeteria. He had picked up today's Pasadena Star-News and settled down to eat his stew and read the sports page, when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Alan! How are the boys doing?"

"Hi, Millie! They're doing fine. They're both coming home tomorrow morning."

"That's wonderful! How are you holding up?"

"Not bad. Actually, I'm getting kind of tired of living here at the hospital. I'm looking forward to getting my two invalids home."

"Has the FBI managed to round up the gang that did all this?"

"Not yet. It looks like they're getting closer, though. Charlie has been finding some more clues. I'm sorry to say three of your students are involved."

"I know. I feel bad about listening to their complaints against him. I feel like I contributed to their evil plan or something."

"You didn't have any choice, Millie. You had to pursue the charges."

"I know, but I can feel bad anyway. What time do you think you'll be home? I know some of Charlie's friends want to stop by and say hello. And, yes," she added with a chuckle, "he does have friends on the faculty other than Professors Ramanujan and Fleinhardt."

Alan laughed, "I never doubted it. They haven't really told us what time we'll be out of here, but they did say morning."

"All right! I'll spread the word. Is there anything I can do to help you boys?"

"Nothing I can think of. Thank you for everything you've done, Millie. I know you've had to juggle Charlie's classes around."

"The worst part was dealing with the students who signed up for his classes for HIM and not necessarily for the subject matter."

"Oh, no! Not again?"

"No, not again. Most of them are girls who seem to find your younger son irresistible. I don't think he'll be at any physical risk from them."

"And I have a feeling Amita will be protecting him from their more amorous attacks."

Millie laughed. "You know, Alan, I had my doubts about those two getting involved when I first took over the department. But I do think they have a very nice thing going. Are we going to be having a wedding any time soon?"

Alan held his hand over his heart, "Don't jinx it, Millie! I'm sure they'll settle down when they're ready."

"I'm sure. Say, Alan, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you Millie!"

When Alan returned to the room, Don and Charlie had finished eating their dinner. Charlie was working on his computer, and Don was sitting next to him, watching the screen.

"Working on the case?" Alan asked as he entered.

Charlie chuckled. "Playing Chain Factor. I'm trying to show Don the most mathematically expedient way of arranging the balls."

"But speaking of the case," Don looked up from the screen, "David called. A kid with a gun was waiting for Ben and Maggie when they got home."

"Oh my God!" Alan exclaimed. "Are they all right? Did they catch the kid?"

"No, but they know who it was," Don stood slowly and eased the kinks out of his back.

Charlie chewed on his lower lip. "It was one of the three students who are involved with the gang. Liz and Colby are keeping track of their cell phone usage, so it's only a matter of time before they find them."

Alan gestured at the computer. "And you don't feel the need to do some pursuit curve thing or something?"

Charlie shrugged. "To be honest, I do have a program running in the background."

"Yeah, Dad," Don hobbled back to his bed. "He's like a terrier with a bone. He's not going to let go."

"And that's a bad thing?" Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"Not at all, Buddy." Don eased himself back into bed. "Not at all."

--

The next morning, Alan arrived in the hospital room with a bag of fresh clothes for his boys to wear for their homecoming.

Don pulled out a pair of black sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt. "Sweats? Oh, come on, Dad!"

"Donnie, I know you love your tight jeans, but I think they'd better wait until you've healed, don't you?"

With a dramatic sigh, Don nodded. "I suppose you're right." He took the clothes, along with clean underwear and headed for the bathroom. He ran his hand through his damp hair. "At least I feel human after hitting the shower."

Alan crossed the room and handed Charlie the bag. "You, my son, were a little luckier. Though I'm still not sure if you can manage the buttons. But I can help you with that."

Charlie pulled out the jeans and button down shirt. "No tee shirt?"

"And how would you pull a tee shirt over your head?" Alan scrutinized his younger son. "You need help with your hair?"

Charlie ran his left hand through his curls. "Nah. It's almost dry, and I'm not planning on impressing anybody today. I just want to get home and fight over the couch with Don."

Alan laughed. "I'm sure you'll work it out. Maybe you can come up with some mathematical way of determining a fair distribution of the furniture." Turning serious, Alan said, "Any word from David yet about those three students of yours?"

Charlie shook his head. "No. David sent me some of the phone GPS locations, and I set up a program to help them try to predict their movements."

"Really? I was just reading an article the other day about law enforcement agencies using cell phone GPS chips and the enhanced 911 system to track down suspects. Apparently there are those who are concerned about the invasion of privacy."

"David is not one to cut corners, Dad. I'm sure his warrant was in order. Especially in LA," Charlie added with a grin, "Judges are a little less inclined to give law enforcement a carte blanche."

"And with good reason! 'Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.'"

"Ben Franklin?"

"Most likely. Two hundred years later the jury's still out on who first said that. But it's an important thing to remember, don't you think?"

Charlie pondered for a moment, then said, "I guess it depends on whether you're the guy whose safety is involved or the guy whose liberty is being infringed upon."

"Speaking of safety, did your program show whether those boys were anywhere near our house?"

"No. The last I heard, they were downtown. Two near the Don's office, and one near the LAPD headquarters. Don't worry. Don's team will get them."

"It's odd that they haven't tracked them down before now."

Charlie shrugged. "It's not that unusual. They're all from out of town, so they don't have family nearby, and their friends are all pretty much tied to CalSci. So the standard methods of tracking them down wouldn't be of much use. And LA is a pretty big city. It's kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack."

Alan nodded at Charlie's computer. "And nobody does it better." The bathroom door opened. "Hey, Donnie, you're looking more like your old self."

Don walked slowly to the chair next to his bed. He sat gingerly. "You were right about the sweats, Dad. I was thinking of stopping by the office on the way home..."

"That's not on the way," Charlie stood, picking up his clothes. "Besides, I was just telling Dad that my program shows two of the students are near your office. However, my office is..." he glanced hopefully at his father.

"No," Alan said, "I am the driver, and as such, it is my decision whether to stop. And I have decided that we are going straight home. Why not just have Amita bring you whatever you need?"

Charlie checked his watch. "She'll be in class now, but I'll call her when we get home. Okay, I'm going to get dressed."

Don looked up from tying his shoe. "Let me know if you need a hand, Buddy."

"Ha ha." Charlie said as he closed the bathroom door.

Alan stared at the bathroom door for a moment, and then turned to face Don. "Donnie, I know I'm probably acting like an old lady, but I can't help worrying..." as Don started to interrupt, Alan held up his hand and continued, "... Is there any way you could have an agent keep an eye on the two of you until the rest of this gang is out of circulation?"

"Listen, we've got the Agincourts under arrest. With Charlie's program, the FBI techs are narrowing down the search area. They're getting real time data from all three cell phones." He checked his watch. "By the time we get home, David should have all three students under arrest. It's gonna be okay, Dad. Besides, I'll be armed and I'm not a total invalid, you know."

Alan sighed. "All right. But if they're not under arrest by tonight, I'm going to call David myself and get an agent assigned to keep an eye on you two."

"Deal. Now, where the heck is the nurse with our discharge papers?"

Charlie opened the bathroom door. "Well, I got most of the buttons." He waved his left arm, showing Alan his unbuttoned cuff. "I could use a hand with this one, though."

As Alan buttoned the cuff, Andrea and Mary entered the room. Andrea held up a sheaf of papers. "I heard a rumor someone in here is ready to leave us."

--

David paced as Tom Yang entered the latest data into Charlie's program. He looked up as Colby and Liz entered. "We've almost got it."

"Good," Liz said. "We've got teams ready to pick them up. Have you talked to Don yet this morning?"

"Yeah," David stopped his pacing. "He and Charlie are pretty anxious to get out of there. I told him I'd call when we finished up with these guys."

"Agent Sinclair," Tom said, "I've got locations on all three phones."

"How accurate?"

"Thirty to forty foot radius." Tom pressed a button and a map of downtown LA was projected on the screen behind the agents. "There you go," he pointed at the screen. "These two circles are the locations. Two phones are together here," he pointed to a location about ten blocks from the FBI headquarters. "Daniel Weimar and Jason LoBella. They're moving, apparently by foot, heading in a northerly direction. The third phone, Greg Spencer, is here," he pointed to the second circle, "about five blocks from LAPD headquarters. He's also on foot, heading west."

"All right," David said, "Colby, Liz, you guys get your team and take the two near here. I'll take my team to pick up the third. Tom, keep us updated."

David pulled over to the curb, scanning the pedestrians filling the sidewalks. Agent Mike Florea opened the passenger door and shook his head, "You'd think with so many cars and so many freeways the friggin' sidewalks would be empty. This looks like friggin' New York City."

David laughed, "You're right. Listen, Tom says he should be within forty feet of us. He's got him still heading west." He straightened his sport coat as he and the other three agents got out of the SUV. "Let's try not to be too conspicuous. You all know what he looks like. Let's try to take him quietly."

Mike chuckled, "Darn. I was hoping for a good old fashioned foot chase."

"Tell you what. If he runs, you get to chase him."

The four agents, sunglasses concealing the fact that their eyes never stopped moving, looked like four businessmen on their way to a meeting. Tom's voice came from David's earphone. "Agent Sinclair, I've got you. You're practically on top of him."

"Thirty feet?" David murmured.

"I'd say closer. You should be able to see him."

David scrutinized the pedestrians around him. "I don't see him."

"You want me to ring his phone? It'll show as an unlisted number, so he won't suspect anything."

"Sure. Go for it. I hope he doesn't have it on vibrate."

David heard a cell phone ringing about ten feet ahead of him. He signaled his team and started to jog toward the sound. A teenager stopped, and pulled a phone from his jeans pocket. "Yeah?... Who's this?... Tom? I don't know any Tom... Yeah, you're damned right you got a wrong number... Next time..."

David grabbed the teen's arm. "FBI. Let me take that call."

"What the...?!" The kid struggled, but stopped when Mike and the other two agents stepped in front of him. He handed the phone to David.

"Tom?"

"Agent Sinclair. You've got Greg Spencer's phone."

"Unfortunately, I don't have Greg Spencer."


	35. Chapter 35

Alan pulled the car around and grinned as he saw his two sons parked side by side in their wheelchairs. He wished he had the camera to catch Don's expression. Mister "Tough Guy" had been forced into a wheelchair by a blue haired lady half his size armed with nothing but "hospital policy" and was not happy about it. Charlie had been more cooperative, even though he had worried about being a bother to the petite lady who pushed his wheelchair.

Alan hopped out of the car and helped Don into the front passenger's seat. Charlie eased himself out of the chair with the help of his little old lady. "Hey," he teased, "I called shotgun."

"Your brother needs the front seat. His legs are longer."

Charlie rolled his eyes as he settled into the back seat. "He always gets to ride shotgun."

"Yeah, Chuck, I guess Dad just likes me better." Don grunted as Alan helped him to sit.

Charlie struggled with his seatbelt. "You know, this was easier when I could use both hands."

"Just wait'll I order Chinese tonight," Don chuckled.

"Stop it, you two!" Alan scolded as he climbed into his seat. "Or I'll just leave you here."

The woman who had wheeled Don from the room said, "What makes you think we want them?"

Alan grinned at the woman and waved. "Wish me luck!"

Charlie sighed. "Okay. Donnie can have the front seat. I won't complain. But I'm ordering pizza tonight."

Alan pulled away from the curb. "I'm making lasagna. I think we all could use some home cooking."

Don saluted. "Yes sir!"

"So, Charlie," Alan said, "I spoke with Millie last night. She was going to spread the word that you're coming home today."

"In that case, you might want to make some extra lasagna." Charlie chuckled, "If Millie is spreading the word, you can expect a crowd at the house."

--

David's cell phone rang. "Sinclair," he answered.

"David, it's Colby. We've got the cell phones..."

"But not Weimar and LoBella, right?"

"Right. How'd..."

"I'm looking at a kid who for some reason has Greg Spencer's cell phone in his possession."

The kid interrupted, "Hey! Dude gave it to me. He said he got a new one and didn't need this..."

David pulled a photograph out of his jacket and showed it to the kid. "Is this the dude?"

"Yeah. He..."

"Shut up," David turned back to his phone, "Colby, the kid says Spencer gave him the phone."

"Well, LoBella and Weimar were more creative. They put their phones in a street lady's shopping cart. She claims she didn't see where they came from."

"Okay, I'll meet you back at the office. Looks like we've been played. I'll call Don and warn him. Just in case." David closed his phone and turned back to the kid. "We're going to take you to our office to get your statement."

"Hey, you can't do that! I got rights."

David rolled his eyes. "You want me to bust you so I can read you your rights, or do you just want to come with us? We will bring you back here so you can get on with whatever pressing engagements you have today."

--

Alan pulled into the driveway. "Now before you two go hopping out of the car, let me give you a hand. I don't want you doing any more damage to yourselves."

"Yes, Father," Don said, reaching to unhook his seatbelt.

Charlie opened his door. "Why don't I go ahead and unlock the front door?"

"All right," Alan got out of the car. "Just be careful."

"I will," Charlie called over his shoulder.

Alan walked around to Don's side of the car and helped him stand. "Just take it easy, Donnie. I've got you."

Don eased himself out of the car. "Thanks, Dad." As they walked slowly toward the house, Don called, "Hey, Chuck! You'd better not be hogging the couch."

"Well, he did let you ride shotgun."

"Aw, come on, Dad, I'm hurt worse than he is."

Alan chuckled as they climbed the steps to the front door. "I never thought I'd live to hear you admitting to being hurt."

"Well, it is a little hard to hide... Where's Charlie? I thought he was just going to unlock the door."

"Maybe he had to go to the ..."

"Get in here and get your hands up!" Jason LoBella stepped into the doorway, pointing a gun at the two men.

Stunned, Alan put his hands up and stepped through the door, giving Don a warning glare. "Don't do anything stupid, Donnie," he murmured.

"Yeah," Greg Spencer stepped forward, twisting Charlie's injured arm behind Charlie's back. "Don't do anything stupid, Donnie."

Don lifted his hands and stepped into the room. "Okay, I'm not gonna do anything. Why don't you let him go, Greg?"

"Not on your life. I need something from you, Agent Eppes, and I figure you'd do just about anything to keep me from hurting your little brother." He twisted Charlie's arm. Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and gasped.

"You want the painting, right?" Don took a step toward Greg. "Well that's not gonna happen."

"Whaddya think, Professor? Will big brother let me keep doing this..." he yanked Charlie's arm upward. Charlie cried out in pain. "Or will he give me the painting?"

Charlie's eyes opened and he took a shuddering breath. "Don... don't do it."

Daniel Weimar stepped forward and backhanded Charlie. "Shut up, Professor!"

Alan grabbed Daniel's arm. "Stop that!"

"Dad!" Don yelled. "Don't!"

Daniel spun around and punched Alan in the face. Alan dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Jason lifted the gun. "Stay there, Agent Eppes. I'll shoot you and then I'll shoot Daddy Dearest. You don't want that, do you?"

Don raised his hands again. "No. I do not want that."

"Then you're going to get us the painting."

"You know we've got the two ring leaders. They're going away for a long time, so you don't have to worry about anybody coming after you."

"Two?" Greg scoffed. "Shows how little you know, Eppes. And what makes you think we're afraid?

Don glanced at Jason. "Just a rumor I heard." Don's cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate. He itched to answer it, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. Now if whoever was calling would hang up before it went from vibrate to ring. No such luck. It began to ring.

"What's that?" Jason demanded.

"My cell phone," Don glanced at his pocket. "It'll just go to voicemail. Don't worry about it."

"Answer it," Greg shifted his grip on Charlie, "or I'll break his arm."

Don kept his left hand in the air and used his right hand to pull the phone out of his pocket. "Eppes," he answered.

"Don, it's David. The three students..."

"Sorry, Greg, I took too long. Whoever it was hung up." Don flipped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket.

"Turn it off," Daniel said, "We don't need any other interruptions."

Alan moaned and Don took a step toward him.

"Stay put," LoBella snarled.

Don glanced at LoBella and then turned his attention to his father. "Dad, are you okay?"

Alan nodded and grimaced as he reached up to rub his face. Daniel reached down and yanked Alan to his feet. "Get up, old man," he growled.

Alan staggered and reached up to hold his aching head.

"Stop it!" Don lunged at Daniel. Daniel released Alan and punched Don in the stomach. Alan slumped to the floor as Don doubled over, clutching his stomach.

"No!" Charlie tried to pull away from Greg's grip, but the pain in his arm stopped him.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you Professor," Greg gave Charlie's arm another brutal twist.

Jason yanked Don back and pressed the barrel of the gun to the agent's temple. "Greg, what are we going to do now? Stealing those paintings is one thing. Killing a Fed is something completely different."

"Oh, we're not going to kill the Fed, Jason. I'm hoping he'll change his mind before it comes to that. What do you think, Daniel? Will hurting his daddy or his baby brother be more likely to give us the desired outcome?"

"You've had all the fun so far. Let me try." Daniel wrapped his left arm around Alan's neck in a choke hold and slammed his right fist into the older man's kidney.

At his father's grunt of pain, Don lunged forward again. "No!!" He was brought up short by Jason grabbing his arm and yanking him roughly back. Panting, Don looked from Alan to Charlie. How could he let them suffer over a painting? Alan's knees had buckled and Daniel's arm around his throat was the only thing that kept him from falling to the floor. Charlie gazed back at Don. His sleeve was soaked in blood and he was slumped back against Greg Spencer.

Spencer chuckled. "Well, Fed? Is that stinking painting really worth it? It's just an old canvas with a bunch of cracked paint on it." He looked down at Charlie's arm. "Looks like the professor here popped his stitches. That's gotta hurt. I wonder how much I can twist it before something breaks." Charlie groaned as Greg pulled on his arm.

"Wait," Don said. "You're right. Why don't you let them go and take me to the FBI? We'll get the painting."

Greg smirked at Don. "Yeah, right. That's not going to work."

Don shrugged. "What do you suggest? I'm trying to work with you here."

Greg glanced at Daniel and Jason. "Do you guys have any suggestions?"

Don shook his head. "I don't believe it. You three are supposed to be smart, or you wouldn't have gotten into Cal Sci. Don't tell me you came here with no idea of what you were going to do."

"Crap," Jason murmured. "He's right, Greg. What are we going to do?"

Daniel eased Alan to the floor. "Why don't we keep these two and send the smart guy there to go pick up the painting and bring it back? He's not going to run off and leave his father and brother to our tender mercies."

Jason shook his head. "I don't know, Daniel. What if he comes back with a truckload of armed feds?"

Greg grinned. "His brother and father will be dead before they make it through the front door."

"But what about us?" Jason asked.

"It's not going to happen. You really think your buddy there is going to risk the lives of these two? He'll come back with the painting, all by himself and he'll let us leave."

"I'll do it," Don said softly.

Charlie looked at Don, stunned. "Don, you can't."

Don looked at Alan, unconscious on the floor, then looked back at Charlie. "I have to, Buddy." He met Greg's gaze. "I'll bring the painting back. If I find out you've done anything else to them..."

"Empty threats, Eppes?" Greg asked. "Don't worry. If you keep up your end of the bargain, we won't hurt them. Jason, let him go. What do you think, Eppes? Will an hour be long enough?"

"That's not a lot of time to get downtown..." Don objected.

Greg shrugged. "Use your lights and sirens. See you in an hour."

--

Don resisted the urge to look back at the house as he walked to his SUV. As he reached for the door handle, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find himself face to face with David.

"Stay back," Don glanced nervously at the house. "They might be watching."

David took a step back into the bushes. "What's going on?"

"Weimar, Spencer and LoBella have got Dad and Charlie. They gave me an hour to get the painting and bring it back here."

"Are they okay? Are you okay?"

"Been better," Don growled. "I've got to get going." He glanced back at the house and made a show of fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

"Okay. Drive down the block. Colby and Liz are waiting there."

Don unlocked the door and pulled it open. Without looking back at David, he said, "Weren't you listening? They've got Dad and Charlie!"

"We're ready to get them, but we need to know what's going on inside. Now, go, before they wonder what's going on."

Don sighed. "Okay. But this had better work." He slammed the car door and backed out of the driveway.

He was out of sight of Charlie's house when he saw Colby's SUV. He pulled over and parked. He climbed out of the car, pressing his hand to his aching belly. When he pulled his hand away, it was red with blood. "Damn," he mumbled. He looked up to see Liz and Colby walking down the driveway toward him.

"Don!" Liz hurried toward him. "Oh, God, Don! You're bleeding! Are you okay?"

Don glanced down at the red spot on the front of his gray sweatshirt. "I'll live. I hope David knows what he's doing. I'm supposed to be picking up the Van Gogh and bringing it back here. They've got Dad and Charlie and they gave me an hour."

Colby took out his cell phone. "I'll call and have the painting brought here. Just in case."

Don bit his lip. "Thanks. So, what's the plan?"

Liz nodded toward David, who was approaching. "We're familiar enough with Charlie's house, David figured we could get in and take the three of them by surprise. But we need to know the situation in there."

Colby closed his phone. "Okay, Gary will be here in about twenty minutes with the painting."

"Gary?" Don was perplexed. "Why him?"

David grinned. "Since we're still worried that we might have another mole, we decided to store the painting in LAPD's evidence lockup."

Don chuckled. "That's a great idea. Hey, David, I'm sorry I snapped at you back there."

"It's okay. I understand. You're worried about your family. So what's going on inside? Are they armed?"

"LoBella has a gun. I don't know about the other two. Charlie went in first, and apparently Spencer caught him by surprise. When Dad and I got there, he had Charlie and was twisting his bad arm."

"Okay," David said, "what kind of shape were your dad and Charlie in?"

"Charlie's arm was bleeding again. I'm thinking it might be broken. He was in a lot of pain. Other than that, he seemed okay. Dad... they hit him a couple of times. He was unconscious when I left. But I don't know if it was anything life threatening." Don ran his hand through his hair. "We've gotta get them out of there."

"And how are you?"

"I'll be fine." He pressed his hand to his belly. "I think I just busted my stitches."

"All right," Colby said, "where in the house are they?"

"They were in the dining room when I left. Just inside the front door. Oh, and I told Spencer that we had the two ring leaders, and he said something about me not knowing what I'm talking about. You think that means there's another ring leader we haven't caught yet?"

David nodded. "Could be. Listen, when we get Charlie out of there, we can have him and Amita look at that possibility. You have a key to the back door?"

"Yeah." Don reached in his pocket for his keyring.

"Okay, here's the plan. Colby and I are going through this guy's back yard into Charlie's back yard. With your key, we'll let ourselves in through the back. Liz will go to the front door once we're inside and create a distraction."

"You're forgetting someone," Don said softly.

"No, I'm not. You're staying here."

"I'm coming with you."

Colby shook his head. "Not a good idea, Don. You know it's never smart to have family members involved."

"It's not the same, Granger. I'm not just family. I'm an agent..."

"Who happens to have an emotional stake in the outcome of this case," Liz said.

"And you don't?" He glared at the three agents. "Don't try to tell me the three of you don't care about Dad and Charlie. Don't try to tell me you don't have an emotional stake in this too."

"It's not the same," David said quietly.

"Listen, instead of Liz going to the front door, why don't we wait until the painting gets here, and I'll take it into the house? I'll be the distraction while you guys take them out from behind."

Colby, Liz and David exchanged glances. David nodded, "It could work."

Liz agreed, "They'll be expecting Don. He'd have an easier time getting in there than I would."

Colby put a hand on Don's shoulder. "While we're waiting for Gary, let's go sit in my car. We can have a look at that wound. We don't want you passing out from loss of blood."

Don estimated he had checked his watch fifteen or twenty times as he and his team worked out the details of their upcoming rescue. He had let Colby replace the gauze pads covering his wound, but he refused any other medical treatment. "We don't have the time," he insisted. Finally an unmarked LAPD car pulled up alongside Colby's car.

Lt. Gary Walker climbed out of the car, carrying the painting. "Eppes, sorry to hear about your family. What can I do to help?"

Don took the painting, smiling feebly. "You've just done it. Thanks, Gary."

"You're not looking too healthy. You gonna make it?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Gary."

"If you don't mind, I'll hang around for the excitement."

"You'll have to ask David. He's in charge."

At Gary's inquiring glance, David said, "Sure, Gary. You never know. We might be able to use your help."

As Colby, David and Liz got into their vests, Don studied the painting. So much agony for this? He closed his eyes, picturing his family. Charlie, face filled with pain, yet still defiant. Alan's anger as he grabbed Weimar's arm, disregarding any risk to his own safety.

"Don?"

He opened his eyes and saw David's worried expression. "I'm okay. Just collecting my thoughts, you know? Let's do it."

David scrutinized Don's face, then nodded and patted Don on the back. "They'll be fine, Don."


	36. Chapter 36

Charlie stared at the door after Don closed it behind him. He hoped Don had made the right choice. In spite of assertions to the contrary, he could tell Greg was scared. And scared people did not behave in a consistent manner. On the floor, Alan moaned. Charlie turned trying to make eye contact with his tormentor, "Greg, listen, my dad hasn't done anything to you. Why don't you let him sit down on the couch?"

Greg took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sure. Why not? We'll be waiting a while anyway. Why don't we all make ourselves comfortable? Guys, help Mr. Eppes up."

Charlie relaxed a bit in Greg's grip. "Thank you," he said softly.

Jason put his gun down on the table and helped Daniel get Alan to his feet. "Come on, Mr. Eppes. We got you."

Alan blinked groggily as he passed Charlie. "Charlie? Are you okay? Where's Don?"

"I'm good, Dad. Don went to get the painting."

"What was he thinking? He can't do that."

"I don't think he felt he had a choice," Charlie grunted as Greg pushed him towards the couch.

"Here, Professor. Have a seat next to Daddy and don't do anything stupid."

Alan's fog was starting to lift and he scowled at Greg. "Neither of my sons ever does anything stupid."

"Aw, listen to that, guys," Greg laughed. "The Professor here and his fed brother never do anything stupid."

Charlie sighed. "Dad, you know that's not true. I do lots of stupid things. Did you know Don wanted to arrest Greg after he attacked me on campus, and I told him not to worry about it?" He looked up at Greg. "Did you kill Ellen so you could take the painting from her?"

"Sorry, Professor. Your basic assumption is wrong. I did not kill Ellen."

"But you certainly benefited from her death." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Charlie knew he had gone too far.

Greg grabbed him by his shoulders and yanked him to his feet. "Shut up! Your brother is going to be ticked off if he comes back with the painting and finds you dead."

Charlie gasped at the sudden jarring of his injured arm. "If you kill me, Don won't rest until he finds you. And when he finds you, I wouldn't be surprised if somehow he manages to convince his superiors that you were killed trying to escape." He glanced from Greg's eyes to Jason's. "What are you planning to do with the painting?" Jason avoided Charlie's gaze, instead looking to Greg for the answer.

Greg gave Charlie a shake. "Why do you care?"

Charlie tried to free his injured arm from Greg's grip. He stopped when the pain became unbearable. Gritting his teeth, he tried to engage Greg in conversation. "I'm curious. It's the nature of the scientific mind to want to find answers. And you said it yourself: we've got a while to wait. Why not spend that time satisfying my curiosity?"

Greg shoved Charlie back down onto the couch. Charlie grabbed his aching arm, trying to shift it into a less painful position. Greg started to pace in front of the couch. "We are going to give the painting to the guy Felicia stole it for. He knows we have ... had ... it, and he's made it clear that if he doesn't get the painting, we're dead."

"Who is it?"

"You don't think I'm really going to tell you that, do you?"

Charlie shrugged, grimacing. "It was worth a try."

"Charlie," Alan gently touched his son's injured arm, "let me help you get your arm back into the sling. I think it'll help."

Charlie gave Greg a questioning glance. Greg nodded. "Sure. Go ahead."

Alan used both hands to carefully lift Charlie's arm. Charlie used his left hand to hold the sling open as Alan slowly slipped the right arm into the sling. Once he was settled he turned back to Greg. "Okay, so you're not going to tell me who it is, but earlier you mentioned that there was a third ring leader. Is this buyer the third ring leader?"

"Yeah," Greg said. "And he's not very happy that he's not getting his painting."

"Is he the buyer for all the pictures?"

"That I don't know."

"How did you guys end up with the Van Gogh?"

Greg shook his head. "I don't think I should tell you that. We didn't kill Ellen."

"Who did? And why?"

"I have my suspicions. But I don't know for sure."

"Tell me what you know and I'll help you find out who did it."

"Charlie!" Alan said, "I can't believe you're going to help these criminals."

"It's more like they'll be helping us, Dad." Turning back to Greg, he said, "Greg, you're smart. You have got to realize that you're not going to get far even if Don brings you the painting. Do you even know how to let this buyer know you've got it?"

"He said he'd contact us."

"Do you think he's going to let you live once he gets the painting and you know who he is?"

Greg hesitated, looking from Jason to Daniel. "What else can we do? We know he'll kill us if he doesn't get the painting..."

"Not if you're in protective custody," Charlie said softly.

--

Don stood, hand on the door of his SUV, watching Liz, David and Colby walk up the driveway of the neighbor's house. Suddenly, Liz turned and walked back to him, holding a gun out to him. "Here," she said, pressing the gun into his hand. "You might need this. I forgot you probably didn't have your own."

"Thanks," he said, softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. "You be careful."

"You too," she said, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He turned and pressed his lips to hers. "I'm always careful," he murmured.

He could feel her lips turning up into a smile. "Not always, Agent," she said, pulling away from him. "Shall we take this up later?"

"Definitely."

She turned and walked back to where David and Colby waited for her. Don watched her, enjoying the view for a moment before he slipped her gun into his waistband and climbed into his car. He waited, watching until the three agents climbed over the fence that separated Charlie's house from the neighbor's. He had worked with them long enough, and was familiar enough with the terrain, that he knew instinctively when it was time to drive back to Charlie's house.

He took a deep, steadying breath as he pulled into Charlie's driveway. Before he got out of the car, he checked to make sure his bulky sweatshirt concealed the gun. Picking up the painting, he opened the car door.

As he walked up the driveway, he saw the living room curtains twitch. He held up the box so whoever was watching from behind the curtains could see it.

The first thing his trained eyes noticed as he walked into the house was the gun on the dining room table. Then he saw his father and brother sitting on the couch. And Jason, Greg and Daniel standing in front of them. Unarmed.

He dropped the painting and pulled the gun from his waistband. Aiming the gun at Greg, he said, "Step away from the couch."

The three erstwhile kidnappers raised their hands and took a couple of steps toward Don. Greg spoke. "Agent Eppes, we'd like to surrender. Professor Eppes told us you'd be able to offer us protection if we give you everything we know."

A grin slowly spread across Don's face. "Charlie talked you into giving yourselves up?" He raised his eyebrows at his brother. "You did that?"

Charlie shrugged and grinned. "I just pointed out the logical results of their actions. They decided to take the only viable option available to them."

"Okay," Don glanced toward the back of the house. "David? Colby? Liz? You can come out now. Charlie talked them into surrendering."

David came down the stairs, Liz came from the garage and Colby came from the kitchen, guns drawn. While Don kept his gun trained on the three students, the agents handcuffed them and recited their rights.

With the three assailants out of commission, Don handed Liz her gun and sat on the couch next to Charlie. "You okay, Buddy? Dad? How about you?"

"We're both fine, Don," Charlie shifted to make more room for Don. "Except I think my arm is broken."

"We'll get both of you to the hospital. And you can fill me in on your hostage negotiation techniques on the way."

--

Liz looked at the three Eppes men, seated on the couch. Alan had leaned into the corner of the couch with his eyes closed. Charlie was fidgeting, obviously trying to get more comfortable. And Don had pulled up his sweatshirt and was examining his bandages. She picked up her cell phone. "I'll call the paramedics."

"Don't bother," Charlie shook his head. "It'll be faster to drive to Huntington from here. Could one of you drive us? I don't think any of us is in any shape to drive..."

Don leaned back on the couch, pressing his hand to his belly. "I agree, Buddy. Dad, are you okay?"

Alan's eyes opened. "I'll be fine. But I'll never watch one of those hardboiled detective movies the same way again. Those guys get clobbered over the head and get up and chase the bad guys. I am not going to be chasing anybody any time soon."

"Colby, why don't we bring the cars around," David said, holstering his gun. "Walker is probably wondering what's going on in here."

Colby laughed. "I forgot all about him. He's probably calling in the SWAT team. Liz, you okay watching the prisoners for a few minutes?"

Liz walked over to the prisoners, handcuffed and sitting on the floor. "You're not going to give me any trouble, are you?" she asked, casually examining her gun.

"No, Ma'am," Jason said, "er, Agent."

Liz grinned at Colby. "We'll be fine. We've come to an understanding."

--

A few minutes later, Colby and David returned with Gary Walker. The lieutenant shook his head as he entered the living room. "Professor, I hear you talked these guys into surrendering. Good job."

Charlie gave Gary a rueful grin. "It's just logic, Lieutenant. Mathematicians are trained in logic."

"Well, whatever it was, you did good." Turning to Don, Walker said, "So, Eppes, if you're done with the painting, I'll take it back with me."

Don pointed to the box where it lay on the floor. "I dropped it."

Walker bent to pick up the box. "I'm almost afraid to look inside. These old paintings are pretty fragile, I hear." He opened the box. "Well, it looks pretty much the same as it did when I turned it over to you. Looks like you got lucky."

"That's good news," Don said. "I'd hate to have the cost of a Van Gogh taken out of my paycheck. Whaddaya think, Chuck? How long would it take them to dock me for a twenty million dollar painting?"

"There are several variables to consider. Would they leave you money to live on? If not, I would say it would take two hundred and fifty years. Of course, if they leave you money to live on..."

"Either way, I'd be screwed."

David and Colby helped the prisoners to their feet. "Liz," David said, "why don't you take our three victims to Huntington? Colby and I'll take these three in and have a little talk with them." Turning to Walker, he said, "Gary, thanks for your help."

"Any time, Sinclair. I enjoy working with you guys." He closed the box. "Let me know when you want this back." He gave a quick wave and left.

--

Liz pulled into the parking lot at Huntington. "My car must know the way here by heart," she said with a chuckle.

Don stirred in the passenger's seat. "We there already?"

"Yep. I'll drop you three off at the emergency entrance and park the car. Unless you need a hand getting inside."

"I think we can handle it," Don chuckled. "I wouldn't want you getting towed."

--

Liz was stunned to see the crowd in the emergency waiting room. She was even more stunned to see Alan, Don and Charlie sitting, waiting. Don had grown deathly pale, and was hunched over, both arms wrapped around his middle. Alan's eyes were closed, and he leaned against Charlie's left shoulder. Charlie's right sleeve was soaked with blood and he was clearly in pain. "What is going on here?" she demanded when she reached them. "They haven't taken you in yet?"

Don looked up and shook his head. "The receptionist told us to sit down and wait. I don't have the energy to argue."

"Well, I've got the energy," she muttered, storming off to the reception desk, pulling out her badge.

When she reached the desk, the receptionist looked up at her. "May I help you?"

"I'm Special Agent Liz Warner, FBI. I want to know why those three gentlemen have not been seen yet."

"Special Agent, they have to wait their turn like everyone else. There are people more severely injured..."

"How many of them were held hostage and tortured? How many have gunshot wounds?" She shifted her jacket so her gun was visible. "Who do I have to see to get these men treated?"

The hint was not lost on the receptionist. She picked up the phone. "I'll call the head of emergency services."

"I'll wait." Liz leaned against the counter, watching Don. He must have felt her gaze on him, because he looked up and gave her a weak grin.

"Agent?" the receptionist said. "They're sending wheelchairs out right now to pick up your three victims. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."

Liz turned and gave the receptionist a brilliant smile. "Thank you."

"In my defense, the gentlemen didn't say anything about being tortured, or being kidnap victims. I just assumed they were our average clients."

"That's okay. It's all good now." Liz strode across the waiting room, sat beside Don, and said, "They're sending someone out for you guys now."

"You didn't threaten to shoot her, did you?" Don chuckled.

"No, but I did show her my badge and kind of casually made sure my gun was visible." She put her arm around Don and gave him a squeeze.

The doors opened and three orderlies with wheelchairs approached the group. "Eppes?" one of the orderlies asked.

Alan opened his eyes and stared at the three men. "Wheelchairs? We're not invalids."

"Sorry, sir," the orderly said. "Hospital policy."

Liz and the orderlies helped the injured men into the wheelchairs and took them to a large exam room with four beds, separated by curtains.

Alan stood up, ready to climb onto the exam table when he noticed Liz was still there. "Liz, you don't have to waste your time hanging around here."

"Actually, I do. I want to keep an eye on you three. Remember, there is still at least one person out there who's trying to get his hands on that painting."

Charlie shuddered. "That's unsettling to hear."

"Don't worry, Charlie," Liz said. "I'll make sure the three of you are okay. In fact, I'm going to make sure each of you has an agent with you until we've apprehended everyone in this case. We're not going to take any more chances."

Charlie's eyes widened, and he seemed to be staring at nothing. "I need to call David," he said suddenly. "I think I have an idea that will help him finish this whole thing once and for all."


	37. Chapter 37

Colby and David had just brought their three prisoners into the interrogation room when David's cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID as he closed the door. "It's Charlie." He flipped the phone open. "Yeah, Charlie? How are you guys doing? Liz got you to the hospital safely?... Okay. Yeah, I like that idea. Bait, huh?" David glanced at the prisoners and grinned. "I think it'll work... You take care of yourself, all right? How are Don and your Dad doing?... Keep me posted, okay?" He closed the phone and continued grinning as he looked from the three prisoners to his partner. "Well, Colby, our favorite genius has come through again."

Greg's eyes had widened at the mention of the word 'bait.' Now he folded his arms across his chest and scowled at David. "Professor Eppes said we'd be put into protective custody. Using us as bait doesn't exactly qualify as 'protective.'"

"Professor Eppes is not in law enforcement. What he says has is in no way binding on us. You kidnapped and assaulted three men, including a federal agent. You're suspects in the murder of Ellen Davis, an attempted assault, the theft of three works of art and attempted sale of stolen goods. Do you really think a college professor can get you out of that?"

Colby shook his head as he sat across the table from the three students. "Besides, Greg, what makes you think you're the bait? Oh, that's right. You've got an irate buyer on your tail. What better way to flush him out than set you guys free and wait for his goons to come and get you? That way we'd get the final cog in the wheel and if we're lucky, save the taxpayers some money prosecuting the three of you."

"You can't..." Jason stammered. "We've got constitutional rights."

David laughed. "I haven't looked lately, but I don't think there's a constitutional right to be thrown in jail."

"But they'll kill us," Jason squeaked. "Greg! We can't let them do this."

Colby regarded Daniel. "You've been awfully quiet, Daniel."

Daniel shrugged. "I've been weighing our options."

"And?"

Daniel looked from Greg to Jason. "And I don't see a good choice for us in all this. We got in over our heads and now we're paying the price." Hie two accomplices nodded and he turned back to David. "What did Professor Eppes come up with?"

David smiled. "You'll see. And don't worry. We'll take good care of you."

Colby smirked. "As good as possible, anyway. Accidents do happen, you know."

--

Don lay, curled up on his side on the exam table chuckling as he watched Charlie making his pitch to David

Charlie closed his phone and looked at Don "What's so funny? I thought it was a good idea."

"Did I say anything? It is a good idea. Have David and Colby talked to those kids yet?"

"I don't think so. I would have loved to see their faces when David repeated 'bait' out loud."

Don chuckled and grimaced. "I'll bet they were almost as scared as you were when Greg grabbed you."

"Donnie," Alan scolded. "Don't pick on your brother. I seem to remember seeing a trace of fear on your stony features as well."

"I was worried about what they'd do to the two of you," Don insisted. "Hey, Charlie, you need help getting up on the table?"

"They're going to send me for x-rays anyway, so I might as well stay in the wheelchair."

Liz laughed. "Alan, I think your sons are getting way too used to being here."

"I think you're right. At least they can teach me the ropes."

The door opened and Dr. Torre entered. "Welcome back! I had to come see for myself if it was really was you. What happened?"

Don sighed. "There were three criminals waiting for us when we got to Charlie's house. They're involved in the case we've been working on. Charlie had gone in first, and while Dad was helping me into the house, one of them grabbed him. They twisted his arm around behind his back."

Dr. Torre glanced at Charlie, noting the blood soaked bandage on his right arm. "I'll be with you in a minute, Charlie. I want to have a look at your brother first."

"That's good," Charlie said. "One of them punched him in the stomach."

Don hissed as Dr. Torre gently rolled him onto his back. "Sorry," the doctor said as he lifted Don's sweatshirt. He removed the makeshift bandages Colby had applied and wiped the blood from the area around the wound. Pressing gently on Don's abdomen, he said, "Tell me when it hurts." When Don gasped, Dr. Torre nodded. "You're going to have a nasty bruise there. That guy packed quite a wallop. But it's far enough away from the gunshot wound..." he pressed on a few more places, watching Don's reactions. "I think we'll just redo your stitches and have you come back in to be checked in a few days."

He pressed the call button. "Andrea? We're going to need to do a little embroidery on our favorite Special Agent."

They could hear the smile in Andrea's voice as she replied, "I'll be right there, Doctor."

"Thanks." He walked to Charlie's side. "Well, Charlie, it looks like you're ready to go for a ride."

"I think my arm is broken this time. I figured you'd want to send me down to x-ray."

"Good guess, Doctor, but I want to have a look first. Let me help you up onto the table."

Charlie stood shakily and, with Dr. Torre's help, climbed up onto the exam table. He started to slip his arm out of the sling, but Dr. Torre stopped him. "Leave it. I don't want to move it any more than I need to." He picked up a pair of scissors and cut the sleeve from Charlie's shirt.

Charlie steeled himself and watched as Dr. Torre cut the red soaked bandages and pulled them away from the wound. With a grimace, he looked at the doctor. "Does it look as bad to you as it does to me?"

Dr. Torre glanced at Charlie's pale face and chuckled. "I doubt it. It actually isn't as bad as it could have been. I'm going to wrap it back up and send you down to radiology."

While the doctor was rebandaging Charlie's arm, Andrea brought in a tray of equipment, scrubbed, and put on her gloves. "Hi, Don," she touched his shoulder. "Can you roll onto your back for me?"

Don opened his eyes and eased himself onto his back. "Hey, Andrea. Long time, no see."

Andrea laughed as she prepared her equipment. "I know. You just can't resist me, can you? Okay, let's see if we can get this shirt off of you." She helped him sit up and supported him with one hand while she helped him remove his sweatshirt. As she eased him back down, she said, "Now, let me clean you up and give you a local. Then we'll give you some new stitches."

"This time I'll be more careful," Don murmured.

Once Charlie's arm was bandaged, Dr. Torre called an aide to take him to radiology. He disposed of his gloves, washed his hands and put on fresh gloves, then turned to Alan. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Alan opened his eyes. "That's okay, Doctor. I'm fine now."

"But you were unconscious. I'm afraid I still have to check you out." After studying Alan's eyes and ears, Dr. Torre asked, "How's the head feeling?"

"Sore," Alan said, rubbing his cheek gingerly.

The doctor nodded. "It'll be that way for a while. I'd say you have a mild concussion. Sit up and I'll have a look at your back. I understand you took a punch to the kidneys."

Alan winced as the doctor helped him sit on the edge of the table. "Yeah. I imagine I'll be peeing red for a few days."

Dr. Torre chuckled. "At least." He poked and prodded Alan's back. "Do you have anyone at home who can keep an eye on your for a couple of days?"

"Maybe my boys and I could keep an eye on each other?"

Liz spoke up. "I'll call Millie and Amita. We'll work out a schedule to babysit the three invalids."

Don craned his neck to try to see her. "You don't have to do that."

Liz grinned at him. "I'm guessing your only other option is to move back into your room here. Am I right, Doctor?"

Dr. Torre pulled Alan's shirt back down. "You are right, Agent. We'll see what Charlie's x-rays show, but I'm hoping to get all three of these gentlemen out of our hair. And that will only happen if they have someone to keep an eye on them."

Don sighed. "I guess we're going to have to accept your offer, Liz."

Liz laughed as she pulled out her cell phone. "Gee, Don, don't act so thrilled."

--

"Colby, you entertain our three guests for a minute. I have to make a phone call," David stood and left the interrogation room. Once he was back in the bullpen, he opened his cell phone. "Gary? This is David Sinclair."

"Sinclair! How are Eppes and his family? They doin' okay?"

'They're in the emergency room still. But it sounds encouraging. Listen, Gary, I need your help."

"Anything."

David explained Charlie's plan. He could hear the smile in Lt. Walker's voice as he replied. "Sinclair, that is brilliant. I guess it helps to have a genius on your team. I'll take care of things at my end. You just let me know when you want us to move, all right?"

"I will, Gary. Thanks. When this is all over, I'm buying the first round."

Gary chuckled. "I'd say you're going to owe me at least a couple of rounds after this."

David laughed. "You got it. Talk to you later."

His next call was to Human Resources Director Jill Weber. "Ms. Weber, this is David Sinclair."

"Where are you calling from?"

"I'm in the office. I have something I need to discuss with you. Would you be free for a few minutes in," he consulted his watch, "about half an hour?"

"Of course. Is this regarding Professor Eppes' work?"

"It is. But we really can't discuss it over the phone. I'll see you in half an hour."

"All right. I look forward to finding out what is going on."

--

Colby watched David exit the room, then turned to Greg. "Tell me everything you know about this buyer. How does he contact you? Have you ever seen him or spoken to him? Do you have a way of contacting him?"

The three students exchanged nervous glances before Greg replied. "If I tell you, will you promise to protect us?"

Colby leaned forward. "I promise the risk will be minimal IF you tell us everything you know."

"All right. He called me on my cell phone two days ago and said that he knew I had the painting."

Colby pulled three cell phones from his pocket. "Which one is yours?"

Greg pointed. "That one. But the caller ID said 'unknown caller.'"

"Okay, so it was a man. What was his voice like?"

"Pretty much average. But he spoke carefully, like... like English wasn't his first language, you know? He sounded very formal. No contractions, no slang."

"Good. Is that the only time he contacted you?"

"No. He called last night. I knew we were in deep.. uh.. trouble. He was really pissed off that we'd lost the painting. He told me that if we didn't get the painting back, he'd have his men track us down and kill us like dogs."

Colby nodded. "So that's why you threatened Dr. Cole and kidnapped Agent Eppes and his family."

"Yeah. We didn't know what else to do." Greg chewed on his lower lip. "Is Professor Eppes going to be okay?"

"Stop pretending to care about Charlie. You tried to get him in trouble with his boss. You were involved in the gang who shot him..." Colby stopped, then narrowed his eyes at the three students. "What do you know about Curt Stevens?"

Greg looked confused. "Who?"

Jason LoBella looked from David to Greg. "He was one of Mr. Agincourt's students, Greg. Don't you remember him?"

"Yeah, Greg," Daniel said, "He was the one who shot Mr. Agincourt and Professor Eppes. I heard him bragging about it."

Greg nodded slowly. "I do remember him. But we weren't involved in that. And I told Professor Eppes we were not involved in killing my cousin."

David entered the room while Greg was speaking. "And Charlie believed you?" He asked softly.

Greg scowled at David. "Yeah. Why wouldn't he?"

"Oh, I can think of a few reasons." David sat next to Colby. "So who did kill your cousin, Greg?"

Greg looked down at his hands and blinked a few times. "I don't know. But I can tell you I really want to find out." He met David's eyes. "Ellen and I weren't really close, but she didn't deserve to be murdered."

"How did you get involved in this gang?"

"I was in Mr. Agincourt's class. Francis, not Fred. I got involved in that after school club thing Fred ran, and Francis approached me. I didn't know at first that Ellen was involved. I'm not really sure how involved she really was."

"She stole a painting, Greg," Colby said. "that's pretty involved."

"Yeah, but did she want to steal the painting, or was she – I don't know – forced in some way?"

Colby and David exchanged glances. David nodded. "Once Charlie gets out of the ER, he's going to do one of his network things and try to find out why Ellen did what she did. But it would help him narrow things down if you tell us everything you know about Ellen's involvement with the Agincourts."

--

"Okay, we're all set," Andrea said, pulling Don's sweatshirt back down.

"Charlie still in x-ray?" Alan asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. We're a little busy here today." Andrea helped Don to sit up. "I'm afraid we're going to need this room. You can go back to the waiting room, and I'll let you know when Charlie gets back."

"Thanks," Don eased himself off of the exam table. "Dad, you need a hand?"

Alan chuckled. "I think you need more help than I do, young man."

Liz put an arm around Don's waist and the three made their slow way back to the crowded waiting room.

They sat, watching the door they had come through, waiting to find out what was happening with Charlie.

Half an hour later, the door opened, and Charlie, his right arm heavily bandaged and in a sling, shuffled into the waiting room. "Charlie!" Alan called, standing. "What's the diagnosis?"

Charlie eased himself into a chair next to his father. "A broken humerus." He noticed Don smirking and said, "Don't say it. There's nothing humorous about it."

Alan looked confused. "But if it's broken, why didn't they put a cast on it?"

"The way they explained it to me, for a cast to be effective, it has to immobilize the joint above and below the break. Since they can't immobilize the shoulder, they have to use a splint instead. Now, can we get out of here?"

"Gladly," Alan and the others stood.

Liz took out her phone. "I'll contact the team at your house and make sure it's all clear."

"The team?" Charlie struggled to his feet. "Do you really think we need a 'team' at my house? You still have Greg, Jason and Daniel in custody, right?"

"But until we find the buyer, you're still at risk," Liz said. "So you're going to have to put up with a body guard as well as a caretaker. It's my turn to pull double duty."

Don added, "And the team, I assume, is the crime scene techs."

"Yeah," Liz said, "a couple of them hung around to keep an eye on things until I get you three home. I'm parked right out front. Flashing a badge can do wonders."

Alan chuckled as they walked out the door. "You think I could get one of those things? It's getting to be impossible to find a parking spot around here."


	38. Chapter 38

"Wow," Alan said as they pulled into the driveway. "How many people are on that team of yours, Liz?"

"Not this many," Liz glanced at the cars parked in front of the Eppes house. She pulled out her cell phone, but Charlie stopped her.

"That's Millie's car. And that one's Amita's. That SUV is the one Ben and Maggie rented. It looks like we're having a welcome home party."

"You recognize everybody's cars?" Liz asked.

Charlie shrugged. "The license numbers."

Liz laughed as she pulled into the driveway. "Why am I not surprised?" Before she turned the engine off, the front door of the house opened and Amita appeared. "Looks like your welcoming committee has been waiting for us."

Charlie climbed awkwardly out of the car and met Amita halfway up the driveway. Tears in her eyes, Amita threw her arms around him. "Oh, Charlie! Are you all right?"

He tried to shift her away from his injured arm. "I'll be fine. Really," he murmured into her hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Your arm..." She released him and slipped her arm around his waist. "Is it broken?"

Charlie nodded. "Unfortunately, yes."

Amita looked over her shoulder and watched Liz helping Alan and Don out of her car. "Liz? Do you need a hand?"

"I've got it. You get your patient inside and I'll bring these two."

Alan muttered, "I'm surprised they didn't have wheelchairs waiting for us."

Liz laughed. "I'm sure it wasn't for lack of trying. It's hard to get three wheelchairs, not to mention hospital beds, on such short notice."

"Ha ha," Don said and he began to walk gingerly toward the house.

"You think I'm kidding? You forget who you're dealing with here."

Millie burst through the door and nearly ran into Charlie and Amita. "Oh! Excuse me. Charlie, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Millie. You really didn't have to..."

But she was gone, rushing to Alan's side. "Oh, dear, Alan! Are you all right?"

"Just a concussion. Nothing major."

"That's good. Come on, let's get you inside. I'm not much of a cook, as you know, but I did stop and buy some chicken soup on the way here."

"We'll be fine, Millie."

Don turned to Liz and murmured, "Is it too late to go to my apartment instead?"

--

Jill glanced up from her computer and smiled. "Come on in, Agent Sinclair. Have a seat. I'll be with you in a second."

David sat. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."

Jill finished what she was doing, pressed the 'enter' key and said, "Any time. Any word on Agent Eppes' condition?"

"He had to have a few more stitches. He and his dad and brother are home now. Agent Warner is keeping an eye on them."

"Good. What can I do for you?"

"Well, you're aware of Charlie Eppes' work in trying to find a mole in this office."

"Of course. In my defense, if we'd known about the criminal activity of Ted Moresby's teachers..."

"We think there's a second mole."

"Did Charlie's work come up with another name?"

"Not yet. He hasn't been able to finish the work yet." A smile quirked the corner of David's mouth. "He's had a few interruptions. We're planning on trying to flush out the buyer for a stolen Van Gogh by transporting the painting. We thought we might flush out any other moles at the same time."

Jill nodded. "Sounds good to me. What do you need from me?"

"While we're waiting for Charlie to get back to his analysis, I thought you could give me the names of any employees who went to the schools where the Agincourt brothers teach. That'll narrow down the list of folks we have to keep an eye on when we let it leak that we're moving the painting."

"Okay," Jill pressed a few keys on her keyboard. "I'll have a printout for you in a moment." She glanced up at David. "How is Charlie doing?"

"His arm was broken, but he's going to be fine."

Jill smiled. "He's such a sweet young man." Her eyes twinkled at David just before she turned to her printer. "I think I scared him off."

"Now, how could you do something like that?"

She shrugged. "I may have given him the impression I liked him."

David chuckled. "That explains why he hasn't gone out of his way to come back here."

"It was a psychological experiment. I wanted to see how he'd react." She turned and picked up a stack of paper from her printer. She pulled the top two sheets off of the stack and handed them to David. "Here you go."

"So, how'd he do?" David couldn't contain his curiosity.

Jill grinned. "He has no clue how cute he is. Which makes him even cuter. But don't tell him I said that. I'm happily involved. And he's definitely too young for me. As I said, it was just an experiment."

David laughed and glanced at the papers. "Current and former employees? Interesting idea." He stood. "Thank you very much, Ms. Weber. I'll let you know what we find out. And I'll send Charlie to you in person with his results."

--

"All right! All right!" With effort, Don raised his voice to be heard above the uproar. "Dad! You take the couch. You've got a concussion and you should be lying down."

"But you should be lying down too, Donnie," Alan objected as Millie took his arm and guided him to the couch.

"I'm going back to my apartment," Don turned toward the door.

"Oh, no you're not," Liz said, taking Don's hand. "We don't have enough people to secure two locations. Sit." She indicated a chair across from the couch.

"Yessir!" Don said, giving a mock salute. "I am sitting."

Charlie eased himself into his favorite rocking chair. "You don't have to tell me, Boss. I'm sitting."

Millie clapped her hands. "Now, gentlemen. Who would like some soda? Coffee?" She looked nervously around. "Are they allowed to have coffee and soda?"

"How about beer?" Don suggested. He looked around hopefully. "Oh, hey, Maggie! Ben! How are you two doing after your little excitement?"

"Much better than you, Don," Ben said, carrying two dining room chairs into the living room. He glanced around at the three Eppes men. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"It'll be hard sitting back while the rest of the team finishes up this case," Don sighed. He glanced at Liz. "But I know they'll do a great job."

"Of course we will," Liz patted Don's shoulder. "We learned from the best."

"Who?" Charlie asked. "Megan?"

"Ha ha, Chuck. Very funny." Don grinned. "Hey, Millie. Why don't we skip the soup and order something in?"

"That sounds good," Charlie said. "How about pizza?"

Don raised his hand. "I vote for sushi or Chinese."

Maggie brought in a dining room chair and sat next to the couch. "Why's that? Easier on the stomach?"

"No way," Don laughed. "I want to watch Chuck there trying to use chopsticks with his left hand."

Charlie shook his head. "Don, you've gotta find a new punch line. You're wearing that one out."

--

Colby looked up as David returned to the bullpen. "Everything is ready to go. You get the names?"

David held up the papers. "Yep. Current and former employees who attended the schools where the Agincourts teach. We've got four current and nine former. Ms. Weber is emailing the list to Charlie."

"Good. That should help narrow his search for a second mole. Gary's got his guys lined up and he says they'll be ready when we are."

"You think we've got enough on our end to handle it?"

Colby shrugged. "Until we're sure who we can trust, I guess we're it. Unless you want to call Liz back from babysitting duty."

David laughed as he took out his cell phone. "Oh, man! I am going to tell Don you said that!"

A look of panic crossed Colby's face. "You're not calling him, are you?"

"Nah. I'm calling Liz to see if Charlie can have a look at our mole infestation problem when he gets Ms. Weber's email."

"Liz?" Amita asked, "is that your cell phone?"

Liz pulled the phone from her pocket and glanced at the display. "Yeah. With the racket in here, I didn't even hear it." She popped the phone open. "Warner. Wait a second, David. I can't hear you. This place is a zoo." She stuck a finger in her ear and walked into the kitchen.

"A zoo?" Don chuckled as he watched Liz leave. "Speaking for the animals here, I resemble that remark." He glanced at his father, lying on the couch, rubbing his forehead. "Dad? You okay?"

Alan sighed. "My head is pounding."

Ben exchanged glances with Maggie and stood. "I think it's time we let these three patients rest." He crossed the room and stood next to Alan. "Alan, we'll work out a schedule to bring meals for the three of you and run whatever errands you need done for the next few days."

Alan struggled to sit up. "You don't have to do that, Ben."

"I know," Ben said, smiling. "We want to. The three of you have been wonderful to us during our time here in California. Please give us the opportunity to return the favor. Now, lie back down."

Maggie added, "And please don't hesitate to call us if you need anything."

"Thank you," Alan said, settling back down on the couch.

"You'd do the same for us," Maggie smiled. "We'll say goodbye to your sons and then we'll see ourselves out."

When Liz returned from the kitchen, things had started to settle down. Ben and Maggie were gone, and Millie had finally settled down and was reading a magazine.

Don looked up at Liz. "What's going on?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, Bossman. Charlie, if you're up to it, David would like you to have a look at something. Jill Weber has sent you an email."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I can't wait to see what she has to say."

"Don't worry. It's just business. She's got a list of former and current employees who went to the schools where the Agincourts teach. David would like you to look them over and see if you can find any more moles in the office."

Charlie thought for a moment. "I'm not sure where my laptop is." He stood, grimacing. "I think it's in Dad's car."

"Sit," Amita said. "I'll find it for you." She got the keys from Alan and went in search of the computer.

"So," Charlie said to Liz, "Has David got the plan in motion?"

"He does. He and Colby are working with Lt. Walker. David wants me to stay here just in case."

"He doesn't expect any trouble here, does he?" Alan pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"No, Alan," Liz said. "We just don't want to take any chances."

"Found it," Amita called as she came back in, carrying Charlie's laptop and the bags Alan had packed to carry Don and Charlie's belongings back from the hospital.

Charlie jumped up and hurried to help. "You didn't have to carry this all yourself."

Amita chuckled. "I've got it. I'm not an invalid – like some people."

"She's got you there, Chuck. You one-armed bandit, you," Don smirked.

Charlie sighed as he eased himself back into his seat. "I wish Ben and Maggie had stayed. At least they were nice."

"Ben's a Brit," Don said. "I think it's bred into them to be polite." He paused, realizing what he had said, then added, "Well, all except for Susan Berry. I heard about the way she used you and then dropped you. That was cold."

Charlie blinked in surprise. "How did you hear about that?"

"I'm a G-Man, Buddy. I have my sources."

Amita took Charlie's laptop out of its case and put it on his lap. "So tell us the gory details, Don. Charlie really hasn't told me a lot about Susan – just that they broke up by mutual agreement."

"Mutual agreement?" Don's eyebrows rose. "That's not what I heard."

"Larry. It had to be Larry," Charlie muttered. He took Amita's hand. "It's ancient history. It was over before you and I started getting serious."

Amita kissed Charlie's forehead. "I know. Larry called it your very own Berry's Phase."

Charlie blushed. "Larry always did have a way with words."

"Berry's Phase?" Don asked. "What's that?"

"It's a phase acquired by quantum states when they're subjected to..."

Amita noticed Don's blank stare and interrupted Charlie's explanation, "It's a quantum mechanics pun."

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. Something only Larry Fleinhardt would come up with."

Millie laughed, "And something only us geeks would find humorous."

Charlie's computer beeped. "There's Ms. Weber's email. Let's see what she came up with."

Don glanced at Liz and said, "I wouldn't be surprised if it involved an invitation to her office. Amita and Susan are not the only two women to find Professor Eppes attractive."

Liz grinned. "That's no surprise to me."

"Really?" Don prompted.

"Really." Liz turned back to Charlie. "What have you got, Charlie?"

"I'm putting the names Ms. Weber sent me into my algorithm. We'll see what comes up. How soon do you need an answer?"

"Lt. Walker is ready to move, so I would say we need it yesterday," Liz said.

Charlie chuckled without taking his eyes from the screen. "You'll have to talk to Larry about that. It would require some interdimensional tinkering. But I should have some preliminary results in a few minutes."


	39. Chapter 39

David slipped his cell phone back into his pocket and signaled for Colby to follow him into the conference room. Once they were inside, he closed the door and pulled the blinds.

"What's up?" Colby asked.

"That was Liz. According to Charlie's preliminary results – and I could hear him in the background emphasizing that they were preliminary – we do have a second mole."

"Who?"

"Agent Tomlin."

"The guy who sits across from me?"

"Yep. That's how they knew what we were doing. They had eyes and ears in our bullpen."

"How sure is he?"

"Sure enough that we're going to have to be careful around Tomlin, but not sure enough for us to do anything about him."

Colby nodded. Then a smile crossed his face. "How about we try to get Tomlin to do something incriminating?"

"What are you thinking?"

A few minutes and several phone calls later, David approached Agent Tomlin's desk. "Hey, we're kind of short handed. I was wondering if you'd mind helping us out with a quick security job. We need to transport some evidence."

"Sure," Tomlin said. "I'm just writing reports anyway. Is this for that art heist thing you guys are working on?"

"Yeah. LAPD has the painting now and we've got to bring it here. Don's injured, Liz is off on an assignment, Megan's still doing whatever she's doing for the DOJ, so I really appreciate the help."

"No problem. It'll be nice to get out of here for a while. So when and where do you need me?"

"Do you know Lt. Walker of the LAPD?"

"Yeah. I've met him a few times."

"You'll be meeting him at the LAPD's evidence room in forty five minutes. He'll have two guys accompany you here with the painting. He's a little overly cautious. I told him we could handle it ourselves, but he insisted. Maybe you can set his mind at ease once you meet him, and talk him into letting you take the painting yourself. No point in the taxpayers having to pay any more than necessary."

"Yeah. I live in LA. My taxes are high enough. Where's Granger? Can't he do this?"

"He had a dentist's appointment. Do you believe that? With everything we've got going on, he takes off on me."

Tomlin chuckled. "No offense, but Granger always seemed like kind of an airhead to me."

David bit back a nasty reply, and forced a smile. "He's not so bad when you get to know him better."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it." Tomlin stood. "I'd better get going."

"You going straight to LAPD?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

"No reason. I just figure Walker will be bugging me, and I want to tell him you're on your way."

Tomlin chuckled as he took his car keys from his desk drawer and stuck them in his pocket. "Yeah. He always seemed like a control freak. Okay, Sinclair, I'll see you later."

--

David watched Tomlin all the way to the elevator, then turned and went back to his desk. As soon as the elevator doors closed behind Tomlin, David picked up his phone. "Colby? He's on the way down."

"Okay," Colby answered. "I'm watching his car. Did you call Ms. Weber?"

"Yep. She was not happy to find out another one got past her. I have a feeling her infatuation with a certain math professor is wearing thin."

Colby chuckled. "Okay, here he is. Talk to you later. Surprise, surprise, he's talking to someone on the phone."

Colby pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes, waited for Tomlin to pull out of his spot and head toward the exit, then followed him at a safe distance. He wasn't surprised that Tomlin headed straight toward LAPD's headquarters. Tomlin probably made whatever arrangements he needed to make on his phone.

David was standing behind Tom Yang, waiting for the tech to find out who Tomlin was talking to. "Good thing he used his FBI cell phone," Tom muttered. "We didn't need a court order to do this. Okay, here it is…" Tom began typing on his keyboard. "Let me see... I should be able to find the name... Here you go. Tomlin was speaking with a Yang Chaoxiang – no relation by the way – here in LA. Let me see what I've got on our Mr. Yang." He punched a few more keys and an image appeared on the screen. "Looks like he's been a bad boy." Tom moved to the side to let David get closer to the screen.

"He certainly has been a bad boy. Looks like he's just here on a visit. He seems to deal in high priced stolen goods, primarily in Hong Kong."

Tom grinned. "Capitalism is alive and well in the land of Mao."

"Yes, it is. Can you give me a location on Mr. Yang?"

"You're not going to believe this. He's in Chinatown. What a cliché!"

"Are you going to be able to track him?"

Tom raised his eyebrows. "How long have we been working together, Agent Sinclair? Of course I can track him."

David shook his head and chuckled. "Okay, while you're tracking him, I'm going to check with the task force working on the Chinese mob."

--

Don stretched and groaned. "At least it's a little quieter around here."

Charlie glanced up from his computer and chuckled. "Millie's a nice person, but she does tend to increase the ambient noise level whenever she's around."

"Dad must be asleep..." Don craned his neck so he could see his father.

"I am not asleep," Alan muttered. "I just don't happen to disagree with you. Since she's gone back to work, my head has finally stopped pounding."

Charlie yawned, closed his laptop and set it on the end table next to him.

Amita gently touched his left arm. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?"

"Nah. I need to stay awake in case David needs any more help. I think I'll make a pot of coffee. Anybody need anything?"

Amita and Liz both stood quickly. "No," Amita said. "You sit. I'll make the coffee."

Charlie pushed himself to his feet. "I need to stretch my legs. Dad? Don? Is there anything you want?"

"A glass of water would be nice," Alan said.

"I'll get it," Liz said. "Don? How about you?"

"Beer," Don grinned at Liz's scowl. "Oh, all right. Coffee sounds good to me."

--

"Come on in, Agent Sinclair," Betty Liu said as she rose to greet her visitor. "Please, have a seat and tell me how I can help you."

"Agent Liu, thank you for seeing me on such short notice," David said as he shook the middle aged woman's hand. "I was told you were the person to see about Yang Chaoxiang."

"Please call me Betty. Yes, Yang Chaoxiang and his organization are something of a hobby of mine. I knew he was in LA, but I was not aware of his reason for being here until you called. I'm assuming you believe he's involved in the thefts of the artworks?"

"It looks that way." David took a few minutes to explain about Agent Tomlin and his phone call.

Betty nodded. "That makes sense. Yang has a extensive and expensive art collection. Yang is a businessman. He looks nothing at all like the stereotypical mobster. But he is a very dangerous man, Agent Sinclair. He is most likely looking to add one or more of your artworks to his personal collection, but he also derives great pleasure from personally killing those who get in his way."

"Who does he work with in LA?"

Betty shrugged. "Usually the 13 W triad. But he's not really much of a team player when he comes here."

"Has he been in touch with anyone other than Tomlin while he's been here?"

"A few legitimate business contacts. An art restorer who's done work for him before."

"Let me guess. Felicia Agincourt, right?"

"Yes! She's not involved in your thefts, is she? Every transaction she's had with Yang has been legal and aboveboard. She has done several restorations, and a dozen or more appraisals for Yang."

"Oh, she's involved, all right. In fact, we're looking at her as the mastermind behind the three thefts. But it makes a lot more sense if she had access to Yang's resources. She's got the brains, her son has the manpower, and Yang has the money."

"Listen," Betty said, "You're shorthanded now. Why don't we combine forces and kill two birds with one stone? I'll have my guys watch Yang's movements."

David grinned. "Agent Liu, that's a great idea. Would you care to join us in the bullpen?"

--

As soon as Liz, Amita and Charlie were in the kitchen, Don picked up his cell phone and dialed. "Hey, David, what's happening?"

"Don! What a pleasant surprise to hear from you," David chuckled. "Tell Charlie thanks for the information on Tomlin. He called a Hong Kong gang boss as soon as he was out of the building. Special Agent Betty Liu from the Asian Criminal Enterprises division has agreed to work with us on wrapping this up. She seems kind of anxious to nab Yang."

"She's good. Which gang is our guy involved with?"

"She said he's worked with 13W before, but he's not a team player. At least not here."

Don chuckled. "Does not work and play well with others."

David laughed. "Sounds like my report card. Hey, I've got to get to work. I'll keep you posted."

"Hey, wait. What's the Hong Kong guy's name? Maybe Charlie and Amita can find something on him."

"I wouldn't doubt it. Surname's Yang. First name Chaoxiang." He spelled the English transliteration for Don.

"Got it. Yang Chaoxiang. Okay. Liz is back with my beer and nachos. Talk to you later." Don closed the phone and accepted the cup of coffee from Liz. "Thanks."

"Beer and nachos?" Liz said with a laugh. "You wish! Maggie left a very yummy looking casserole in the fridge. Charlie's preheating the oven."

Alan sat up as Liz handed him a glass of water. "Thank you, Liz. Maybe that casserole will keep the boys from fighting over what takeout to order."

"I hope so." Liz sat next to Don. "So, what did David have to say?"

"David? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. I know you better than that. Alan, did Don call David the moment I was out of the room?"

"Dad..." Don warned.

"Don't you 'dad..' me, young man. Yes, Liz, he called David before the kitchen door finished swinging."

"Hah," Liz punched Don playfully on the arm. "So what did he say?"

"Our mole called a Hong Kong gangster who just happens to be an art collector, and just happens to be in LA on business."

"Has David got someone from O.C. working with him now?"

"Yeah. Betty Liu."

Liz nodded. "I've worked with her before. She's the best. And she takes the whole Chinese gang thing personally."

"Chinese gang?" Charlie asked as he and Amita returned from the kitchen. "They're involved in this?"

"Looks that way, Buddy. Hey, do you think you guys could do your voodoo with a name David gave me?"

"Voodoo?!" Charlie tried to look offended as he dropped into his seat. But when Amita placed his computer on his lap, he said, "What's the name?"

--

Colby kept a comfortable distance behind his quarry and called David. "Hey, did you call Walker?"

"Yep. He's ready and waiting for Tomlin. Listen, Tomlin made a call to a Hong Kong mobster and art collector named Yang Chaoxiang. We've got some help from Betty Liu in the Asian Criminal Enterprises division. They're kind of anxious to nab this Yang guy."

Colby pursed his lips. "Yeah, I can understand that. What do you want me to do?"

"Just stick with the original plan. Hang back and keep an eye on things. The only thing that's changed is that we have a name for our buyer. Betty's going to have her guys watch Yang. I filled Walker in, and he's ready for this. You know how he feels about gangs."

Colby laughed. "Yeah. He's going to enjoy this. Don't you just love it when a plan comes together?"

"I do. I'll be honest with you, Colby. I can't wait until this thing is over and Don is back in charge of the team. I think I'm getting an ulcer."

"I know what you mean. The sooner we get this thing done and this Chinese gangster out of our hair, the better. Listen, Tomlin just pulled up at the LAPD. I'll talk to you later."


	40. Chapter 40

Author's Note: Has it really been almost 4 months since I've updated? I am really sorry, gang. Real life interrupted, but now things are back on track. I haven't forgotten you.

Chapter 40:

"Charlie!" Don raised his voice. "Wake up!"

Charlie jumped, nearly knocking Amita off the arm of his chair. "What? I'm awake! I was just..."

Amita reached over and brushed a stray curl from Charlie eyes. "You just dozed off there for a minute. You okay?"

Charlie nodded. "It's been kind of a long day." His eyes widened as he looked at the screen, "We've got some results."

Don snorted. "Amita was trying to wake you up to tell you that." Don wiped at his own chin, "You got some drool there, Buddy."

Charlie scowled at his brother in annoyance, but reached up and wiped his chin as he turned his attention to the computer.

Don waited as long as he could, then finally asked, "What results did you get?"

"Oh! You're interested in my voodoo now?"

"I've got nothing better to do.. What did you get?"

"Yang Chaoxiang has strong connections in LA... Not just in Chinatown, but in the art community. He's a major donor to the Armand Hammer and the Norton Simon museums. He has hired Felicia Agincourt to repair and appraise paintings."

"So why didn't he show up in your searches before, Chuck?"

"I didn't look into the museums' donors. Felicia didn't list Yang as one of her clients. And don't call me Chuck."

"Boys!" Alan scolded. "Do I need to send you to your rooms?"

Charlie stifled a grin. "Donnie started it."

Don stood up, stretching the kinks out of his back. "You always were a tattletale. Dad, you want anything while I'm up?"

"How about a cup of coffee? And you might want to put the casserole in the oven. Your brother preheated the oven but then got too distracted to put the casserole in."

Charlie leaned against Amita's arm and gave her his best puppy dog eyes. "Amita, they're both picking on me."

She bent down and kissed him. "Poor baby. Just ignore them."

Liz stood. "Charlie, Amita, you need anything? Apparently Don forgot to ask."

"I didn't forget. You heard Charlie. I'm picking on him." Don ruffled Charlie's hair as he passed. "That's my job."

"We're fine," Amita said.

--

On the way through her department, Betty had asked Dannielle Cho and Demo Stathis to join them. She filled them in on the case as they walked to Tom Yang's desk.

Dannielle grinned at David. "We might just get him this time."

David gave Dannielle a surprised glance. "What do you mean, 'this time.'?"

"We know about his criminal activities. He's just been awfully careful when he's here," Dannielle explained.

"Yeah," Demo agreed. "If we could catch him trying to steal your painting..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Betty cautioned as they approached Tom's desk.

"Agent Sinclair," Tom looked up from his computer. "I was just going to call you. Yang Chaoxiang is heading towards the LAPD office." He smiled at Dannielle. "Hi."

"Betty, you want your team to intercept Yang? Tom can keep you posted on his movements. Right, Tom?"

"Of course." Tom turned his monitor. "Agent Liu, he's here now. I'll let you know where he goes from here."

"Great. Thanks," Betty led her team toward the elevator. "David, we'll keep in touch."

--

Colby watched as Tomlin entered the LAPD office. After waiting for a few minutes, Colby phoned David. "He's on his way to see Walker. Anything new at your end?"

"Yang is on the move – heading towards your location according to Tom. Betty Liu and two of her agents are going to keep an eye on him."

"Okay. Good. Have you talked to Walker recently?"

"I've kept him up to date. I told him I want don't want his people accompanying Tomlin, but that he should resist the idea."

"Why'd you do that?"

"I want Tomlin's contact to think the painting will be an easy target. If he thinks Tomlin's by himself, Yang is more likely to go for the painting. And you and Walker's men can follow Tomlin so we can take Yang and Tomlin into custody once they make the exchange."

"You don't think Yang's alone, do you?"

"Of course not. I'm really not sure he's going to meet Tomlin himself. I figured he'd send his people to pick up the painting just in case something goes wrong."

"That makes sense. Okay, Tomlin's on his way back to his car. Looks like he's got the painting with him. And he's alone."

"Colby?"

"Yeah, David?"

"Stay safe."

Colby grinned. "I will, Boss."

"Hey, don't call me boss. That's a four letter word, Granger."

"Sorry." Colby laughed, flipping his phone shut.

--

Don and Liz returned from the kitchen, Liz carrying Alan's cup of coffee and Don carrying an envelope. "Look what I found when I put the casserole in the oven." He handed Charlie the envelope. "It's probably a get well card."

Charlie held the envelope in his right hand and fumbled with the flap with his left. "Good thing they didn't seal it." He pulled out the card and smiled. "Very pretty. It's calligraphy."

Don leaned over Charlie's shoulder. "It is pretty. I wonder if they made it themselves."

Amita pointed at a tiny set of initials in the lower left hand corner. "That looks like Ben's initials."

Alan hobbled over to stand next to Don, "What's it say?" 

Charlie glanced up at his father. "It's a Bible verse from Ecclesiastes. 'A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.'"

Don laughed, "And it's signed, ''To our favourite triple-braided cord, get well soon. Love, Ben and Maggie.'"

Charlie pointed at the signature. "He spelled 'favorite' wrong."

Alan rolled his eyes and shook his head. "There's no hope for you, my son. That's the British spelling." He rested one hand on Charlie's shoulder and wrapped the other around Don's waist. "That is a lovely sentiment."

Don ruffled Charlie's hair. "We're stronger together than we are separately. Sorry I picked on you, Buddy."

--

David took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he sank into a chair next to Tom Yang. Tom glanced over at him and turned the monitor. "I've got Yang and Tomlin. Here. And here. There's Granger. And that's Liu and her team. I predict they'll meet about here. Too bad Charlie's not here. He could tinker with his algorithm and give you something more accurate."

"That's fine. How long?"

"With the traffic at this time of day, I'm guessing you've got time to get there if you leave now."

David chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet. "Stay in touch."

"I always do."

--

David contacted his team while he was in the elevator. Once he pulled out of the parking garage, he called Liz.

"Hey, David, tell me you have good news. I'm getting tired of babysitting," Liz said with a laugh.

David could hear Don and Charlie's protests in the background. "Don't worry, Liz. It'll be over any time now, and you can get back to doing your job. Has Charlie got anything useful on Yang?"

"Charlie? Even if he had something new, you know I'd never be able to explain it. I'll put him on."

A moment later, Charlie's voice came through the line, "Hey, David. How's everything going?"

"It's going fast, Charlie. Do you have anything new I need to know before we catch up with Yang and Tomlin?"

"Liz tells me you already know about Yang's contacts with the gangs and Felicia Agincourt, so that's not news. Did you know he gave large cash donations to two of the museums that were robbed?"

"You got any other connection between Yang and the museums? He could just be an art lover."

"Nothing so far."

"Okay, call me if you find anything. Can you put Liz back on?"

"Sure. Hey, you take care, okay?"

"I always do, Charlie. Thanks."

"Hey, David," Liz said a moment later.

"Listen, I just have a gut feeling that we're not quite out of the woods yet. Make sure everything's locked down there, okay? And can you get in touch with the Coles? With Yang's connections here, I'm afraid Don's family and the Coles might still be a target."

"You have any evidence?"

"No. Just a feeling. It could be nothing..."

Liz murmured, "I'm on it. I'll make sure Don has his service weapon on him. Should I have LAPD bring Ben and Maggie here?"

"That's not a bad idea. I'd rather be..."

"...safe than sorry. I'll take care of it. I'll second what Charlie said – take care of yourself, David."

"You too, Liz."

David closed his phone and tried to concentrate on his driving.

--

Liz pressed 'end' and began dialing.

"Liz? What's going on?" Don had stood and was approaching her.

Liz sighed. She glanced from Alan, who was dozing on the couch, to Charlie, who was in an animated conversation with Amita. "David's got a gut feeling that your family and Ben and Maggie are still in danger. Have you got your weapon?"

Don stood and walked to the drawer where he kept his gun. "Do you have someone with Ben and Maggie?"

"Not yet. I'm calling LAPD now to have them bring them here. I figured it would be better to have everyone here together."

Don checked his gun and holstered it. "Good idea."

"Don?" Charlie handed the laptop to Amita and got shakily to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"Hopefully nothing," Don gave Charlie a reassuring smile. "David just has a hunch. We're just taking precautions until Yang is in custody."

Alan stood. "Hunch? What kind of hunch? And what precautions are we taking?"

Don sighed. "Yang Chaoxiang has major criminal connections in LA. David just wants to make sure none of those connections comes after Ben and Maggie."

"Or us," Charlie said softly. Don, I know how to use a gun. I've got my certification..."

"You're right handed, Buddy," Don nodded toward Charlie's sling. "Certification or not, the only weapon you'll be useful with is this one," he added, tapping his temple. "David's overreacting. He's never been lead on a case like this before. Come on. Let's check on that casserole." Don turned and walked toward the kitchen.

"Didn't you set the timer?" Charlie said, following Don.

"Of course I did, Suzy Homemaker. But cooking is not an exact science. The timer may not have gone off yet, but don't you smell that wonderful scent coming from the kitchen?"

"Now that you mention it..." Charlie said as he followed Don through the swinging door. He stared as Don walked past the stove and checked the windows. He glanced back as the door swung shut behind them. "The casserole isn't ready, is it? Are they really coming after us?"

Don turned to face Charlie. "We have no evidence that they are coming after us. But I am not going to take any chances with you and Dad, okay? You've already been through enough because of this damned case."

"It was hard on you, wasn't it?" Charlie gnawed his lower lip.

"Of course it was hard on me. Do you think I'm some kind of cold-blooded ..."

"No! It was an observation, not a question."

"It sounded like a question," Don snarled.

The door opened and both brothers turned. Alan gave them a glare as he walked to the oven. "Are you two fighting again?"

Don gave Charlie one last scowl before pushing past his father. "The fight's over."

Charlie leaned against the counter, absently rubbing his arm.

"What happened?" Alan asked.

Charlie sighed. "I said something I shouldn't have. Don... well, Don is right to be angry at me, and I don't know how to make it right."

"Donnie's under a lot of pressure right now. He's hurting, and, well, he won't admit it, but he's scared. He's not in control, and you know how he hates not being in control."

"So, what do I do?"

"Just wait. Once this is over, you can apologize. Right now, you'll just make him angrier if you even mention it." Alan took two potholders from the drawer and pulled the casserole from the oven. "It was hard on him. And he knows you understand that."

"So why did he blow up?"

Alan shrugged. "He had to blow off steam at someone. Who better than his annoying little brother? You want to set the table?"


	41. Chapter 41

"Agent Sinclair," Tom's voice in his earpiece jarred David from his thoughts.

"Yeah, Tom. What's up?"

"Tomlin just made another call to Yang's phone..."

"To Yang's phone? Not to Yang?"

"Unfortunately, one of Yang's buddies from 13W answered. The phone is still on the same path as before."

"Damn," David muttered. "Any idea where Yang is?"

"None. Sorry. I'll let Agent Liu know. Maybe her team knows Yang's location."

"Yeah, do that. Let me know what you find out." David slammed his fist on the steering wheel. He pulled out his cell phone and filled Liz in on the news about Yang.

"You think he's heading this way?"

"I have no idea. Tom's getting in touch with Agent Liu. I just wanted to give you a heads up. Did Ben and Maggie get there yet?"

"Not yet. I'll give LAPD a few more minutes then I'll give them a call."

--

After the call was finished, Liz crossed the room, knelt on the couch and looked out through the blinds.

"What do you see?" Don's soft voice startled her.

"Nothing." She glanced at the kitchen door to make sure Charlie and Alan were still busy. "David called. One of Yang's associates has his phone, and we don't know right now where Yang is."

"But Yang's a businessman, not a thug, right?"

Liz sighed. "I've heard he dabbles in both."

"Crap," Don said.

"My thoughts exactly," Liz glanced at her watch. "He was wondering if Ben and Maggie were here yet. But I don't think they've had enough time."

The kitchen door swung open, and Alan and Charlie entered the dining room, carrying plates and silverware. Don glanced quickly at Charlie and then looked at Alan. "Dad? Maybe we should wait on dinner. Ben and Maggie are coming over."

"No problem," Alan said. "I'll just put foil over the casserole and turn the oven down. Casseroles are very forgiving."

"Speaking of forgiving," Charlie said softly, ignoring his father's warning glare, "Don, I'm sorry for what I said. I never intended it to sound the way it came out."

Don studied his brother's face for a moment, then nodded. "It's okay, Buddy. I'm sorry I overreacted." Don paused as his cell phone rang. He flipped it open and answered, "Eppes."

"Don?"

"Megan? Where are you?"

"I'm at LAX waiting for my luggage. I just figured I'd check in and see how things were going."

Don sighed. "How long do you have."

"That bad, huh? Well, I am at LAX. It could be hours. And my cell phone battery is well-charged. So give me the sordid details."

After Don had given her the Reader's Digest version, Megan let out a low whistle. "You want me in the office, or at Charlie's house?"

"You must be tired. You don't have to..."

"I know I don't have to, Don. I want to. Believe me, after that assignment, I need to."

"Okay. Call David. If he doesn't have a preference, why don't you come here to Charlie's house? We've got a casserole in the oven, and Ben and Maggie are on their way."

Megan chuckled. "Casserole at the Eppes' house. Finally, a bit of normalcy. Too bad Larry's still in space. See ya, Don."

Amita looked up from the computer. "Megan's back? That's great!"

Charlie sat on the arm of Amita's chair. "How'd her assignment go?"

Don shrugged. "She didn't say and I didn't ask. I suggest you don't ask her either. She probably can't or won't talk about it."

"Was it some secret stuff?" Charlie persisted.

"Yeah. All I can say is that she was not thrilled about taking the assignment, but she wasn't given any choice."

Amita squeezed Charlie's knee. "It sounds like we'd better leave it to her to bring it up."

"That makes sense." Charlie rubbed his eyes. "Hey, if you guys don't mind, I'm going to go upstairs and lie down for a while." He stood and stretched gingerly. "Come and get me when everybody arrives."

Alan glanced at his watch. "Are you due for your pain pills yet?"

Charlie shook his head. "Not for another hour." He bent and kissed Amita. "See you in a little while. Sorry I'm such miserable company."

"You're wonderful company." She reached up and touched his cheek. "I'll bring you your pills in an hour."

Charlie made a quick stop in the bathroom. As he washed his hands, he gazed at his reflection. The bruises on his face had reached the fading technicolor phase. Once they had faded completely, he should probably shave. But not today. He did not relish the thought of shaving left handed. He turned and headed to his room.

He kicked off his shoes at the foot of his bed, and decided not to go through the effort of taking off anything else. It took a few minutes of twisting and turning before he finally got comfortable. Alone in the silence for the first time in days, he let his eyes drift shut. His arm was beginning to throb, making him wonder if there was any flexibility in the timing of taking pain pills. He made a mental note to check the internet when he went back downstairs. Somebody somewhere probably did some kind of study.

Fatigue finally began to win out over his active brain. He felt himself drifting off to sleep when he heard a scrape. He turned his face toward the door, wondering if someone was out in the hallway. But it didn't sound like feet on the hall carpet. There it was again. Not in the hallway. Over his head. On the roof.

Normally, he would just assume it was a squirrel or bird. But the events of the past few days came back to him, and he pushed himself to his feet with a groan. Padding quietly to his door, he opened it carefully, and looked up and down the hallway. Empty. He could hear his father's voice, then his brother's voice downstairs.

He was halfway down the stairs when Don noticed him. "Hey, Buddy? What's the matter? Couldn't sleep?"

Charlie put his index finger to his lips, and waited until he was next to Don before he spoke. "It's probably nothing, but I heard something on the roof. It was a scraping sound."

Don and Liz were on their feet, weapons drawn, before he finished speaking. "Dad, Charlie, Amita, lock the doors behind us and then come back in here and stay away from the windows."

Don went out the back door, and Charlie locked it behind him. Alan locked the front door behind Liz, and the two men joined Amita in the dining room. Charlie picked up his cell phone, dialed 911, and stood, his finger on the 'send' key, waiting.

Don glanced back, hearing the door lock click, and gave Charlie the thumbs up. Then he turned his attention to the task at hand. Hunched slightly, he crept into the yard, his eyes in constant motion, searching, searching. The back yard was clear, so he stepped away from the house and turned his attention to the roof. He heard the scraping noise Charlie had described and raised his gun. Scanning the roof, he backed up slowly, mentally cursing the mass of overhanging branches that obscured his view.

He heard a car pull up in front of the house. Several car doors slammed and he heard Liz yell, "Ben, Maggie! Get in the house now. Charlie! Open the door!"

He debated going out front, but he needed to find out who or what was on the roof. Finally, among the leaves, he caught sight of movement. "FBI! Hold it right there!"

The movement continued, and Don shifted, trying to make out the figure. Too big to be a squirrel. Definitely not a bird. It moved over the peak of the roof toward the front of the house. "Liz!" he called, "He's heading your way!"

Liz shouted, "FBI! Freeze!"

Don kept watching the roof, hoping that the police officer who had brought Ben and Maggie was helping Liz out front.

"Don!" Liz called, "Get out here! We've got him."

Don pointed his weapon down and ran to the front of the house. He expected to see Liz handcuffing a perp. Instead, she leaned against a police car, grinning.

"What's going on? Where is he?" Don asked, scowling in confusion.

Liz pointed at the roof. "There's your intruder."

Don looked where she was pointing. "A raccoon?! What the heck?" He leaned against the car next to Liz. "Charlie's gonna pay for this." His laugh was cut short as he grimaced and massaged his belly.

"You okay?" Liz studied his face.

"I'm fine," Don murmured. "I think I'm overdue for a pain pill."

Liz wrapped her arm around Don's waist. "Let's get you inside." She turned to the officer. "Thanks for all your help."

"Any time, Ma'am," the officer replied. "You want me to call animal control, Sir?"

Don scowled at the young man. "I'll leave that to my brother. But if I find out you have told a soul about this, I'll have a chat with Lieutenant Walker."

The officer grinned and held up his hands in surrender. "My lips are sealed, Agent Eppes. I didn't see a thing."

"Good man," Don said. "And thanks for your help." He leaned against Liz and they made their way slowly to the house.

--

At Liz's shout, Charlie had run to the door and unlocked it. Once Ben and Maggie were inside, he hesitated, watching Liz and the police officer.

"Charlie!" Amita called, "Get in here and lock the door!"

Reluctantly, he complied. Then he turned to Ben and Maggie. "Hi. Welcome to the asylum."

"What's going on?" Ben asked.

Alan rolled his eyes. "Charlie heard a noise on the roof, and Don and Liz went into cop mode. Come in, and have a seat. We're heating up your casserole for dinner, by the way."

"I hope you like it," Maggie said.

"I'm sure we will," Alan said with a chuckle. "Anything tastes better if you don't have to make it yourself." He paused, embarrassed, "I'm sorry. That did not come out right."

Maggie laughed. "I know what you mean. Don't worry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I think everything's under control. In here anyway."

Charlie had drifted toward the front window during the conversation. "I think they've got it under control out there, too."

"Charlie!" Alan said, "Don said to stay away from the window!"

"I think it's over. Don and Liz are coming up the walk. They're laughing." Ignoring his father's protests, Charlie opened the front door. "Is everything okay?"

Don holstered his gun. "Charlie! I thought I told you..."

"I know what you told me," Charlie stepped back to let Liz and Don through the door. "What was on the roof?"

"A raccoon," Liz giggled. "But don't worry. That nice police officer has promised to keep quiet."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything about the sound... Don? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Buddy."

"You don't look fine. Here, let me give you a hand."

"You don't have one to spare," Don chuckled. "I'm just a little sore. I think I'm overdue for a pain pill."

"Dad? Where are Don's pain pills?"

"I don't know. Donnie? Don't you have them?"

"They're in my pocket. Charlie, Dad, please stop hovering. I'm fine." He reached into his pocket before he sat down. He opened the childproof prescription bottle and surreptitiously shook two tablets into his palm. As he put the bottle back in his pocket, he noticed Liz preparing to say something and gave her a warning look. He swallowed the pills and leaned his head back on the chair, closing his eyes.

Alan bent to push the ottoman toward Don. "Liz? You want to lift his feet?"

"I can get my own feet," Don muttered, still not opening his eyes. He grimaced as he lifted his feet onto the ottoman. "I'm fine."

"Can I get you anything?" Charlie asked.

Alan put his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Come on. Help me with dinner. Liz can keep an eye on your brother."

Amita and Ben took seats, but Maggie followed Charlie and Alan out to the kitchen. "Why don't I make a salad to go with the casserole? I'm sure you have salad fixings here."

"Normally I do," Alan said, "but things have been a little crazy around here. You're welcome to see what you can find in the fridge."

Charlie busied himself gathering glasses and napkins while Alan checked the casserole. He paused next to the dining room door. "Dad, Don didn't look so good. You think he's okay?"

"I think he just overdid it, Charlie. You know how he is. He won't admit there's anything wrong until he can't stand up any more."

A smile crept across Charlie's face. "True. He did take off like a maniac when I told him about the noise. I hope he didn't do any more damage."

"There's enough of us around to keep an eye on him. And if worst comes to worst, the hospital is not that far away. Now go set the table. Maybe we'll get to eat before the next interruption."

Charlie laughed. "Don't forget. Megan's coming."

"We're not waiting dinner for her. We'll make sure we leave her some." As Charlie pushed the door open, Alan added, "And don't pester your brother!"

"Yes sir!" Charlie lifted his right hand in a vain attempt at a salute.


	42. Chapter 42

David's earpiece crackled and Betty's voice came through. "Sinclair? We're following a blue Nissan Maxima. Two occupants. The driver is Mike Tang from the 13W gang. He's apparently got Yang's phone. The other occupant is Tang's brother Louis. Tom tells me we're about five blocks from your location. Any word on Tomlin's movements yet?"

"Thanks, Betty. Last I heard, Tomlin was heading in your direction. You guys have any idea where Yang could be?"

"We've had him under surveillance since he arrived in LA. He's got an office in the back of Mike Tang's restaurant, and as far as we know, he's still there."

"Might be a good idea to have someone check on that."

"I'll get someone on it."

David arrived at the intersection, and pulled over to the curb, watching. He listened to the voices in his earpiece reporting the progress of the two cars, and his eyes shifted back and forth until he felt like he was watching a tennis match. Finally, Tomlin's car sped through the intersection from his right. When the light changed, David pulled away from the curb and turned left to follow a few cars behind Tomlin. A few blocks later, he caught sight of a blue Nissan approaching them.

Tomlin must have seen Tang's car as well. He signaled and pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald's. David passed the McDonald's and pulled into the next parking lot. He watched as Colby continued to a lot a few doors down, and then saw Liu pull into a Burger King across the street from the McDonald's. The Nissan made an illegal left turn into the McDonald's. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here," he muttered as he got out of his car.

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Charlie was determined not to pester Don. But as he set the napkins down on the table, he couldn't help studying Don's face across the room. His brother's eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping. Liz moved slightly, catching Charlie's attention. She smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up.

"Here," Amita said as she and Ben stood, "let us take care of that. You go sit with your brother and relax."

"I can do this," Charlie objected.

"Nobody's disagreeing with that, Charlie," Ben said, picking up a napkin. "But let us make ourselves useful. Please."

"Besides," Amita said, "I saw you looking at Don. You're worried about him. Go, keep an eye on him."

"Since you put it that way…" Charlie gave Amita a quick kiss and crossed the room to sit on the couch next to Liz. "How's he doing?" he whispered.

"Sound asleep. I think the painkillers knocked him out. How are you feeling?"

Charlie shrugged and winced. "Sore. Tired."

"Sorry your nap was interrupted," Liz said, grinning.

"Don't remind me about that," Charlie groaned. "I'll never live that down."

"Charlie, you did the right thing. You heard a noise and you told us about it. What if you hadn't said anything about it and it turned out to be an intruder?"

"Thanks. I'm still never going to live it down."

"Knowing this crew, I believe it. But don't forget that we only pick on people we like."

Charlie snorted. "You always hurt the one you love. Dad used to sing that when he was punishing us."

"Dinner's ready!" Alan announced as he set the casserole on the table.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Liz nudged Don, "you ready for dinner?"

"Mmm… yeah. I'm awake," Don stirred and stretched.

"Would you rather I bring your food in here?" Liz asked.

"Nah. I can do it," Don said, sliding his feet off of the ottoman.

"You sure, Bro?" Charlie asked. "We can set up a tray table for you. You look like you're going to fall asleep in your dinner."

"I'm sure," Don said firmly. Liz helped him to his feet and helped him walk slowly toward the table. He paused as Ben pulled out his chair for him. "Thanks." Once he was settled, he said, "Hey, Liz, have you heard anything from David and Colby?"

"Not yet. Last I heard David was heading toward the spot where they expected Tomlin and Yang's gang to meet. Betty is checking on Yang's whereabouts, but they think he's still in Chinatown. Probably waiting for his guys to bring him the painting. Now would probably be a bad time to call David," she added with a smirk.

"Can we forget the case for a few minutes and enjoy supper?" Alan asked pointedly.

"Definitely," Don said, "but the minute we finish eating, if I haven't heard from David, I'm calling in."

"If you're still awake," Alan said. "Have some salad. Maggie pulled off a miracle."

"Give credit to Amita. She brought over a head of lettuce and some tomatoes."

As Maggie was passing the salad to Don, they were startled by a loud knock on the front door. Don started to stand, but Liz put her hand on his shoulder. "I've got it." With her hand on her weapon, she walked to the door and pulled the curtain on the sidelight aside. With a relieved grin, she unlocked and opened the door. "Megan! Come on in!"

Megan's smile didn't quite banish the signs of fatigue and stress from her eyes. "Hey, Liz. How's it going?"

"What's that ancient curse? May you live in interesting times? It's been interesting," Liz leaned out the doorway and glanced up and down the block before closing and locking the door.

"I can see that," Megan said.

"Hey, Reeves!" Don called. "Get in here before dinner gets cold!"

Megan rolled her eyes at Liz. "Some things never change."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"All right," David spoke into the mic clipped to his collar, "wait until they make the swap. I'll pick up Tomlin after Tang leaves with the painting. Betty, Colby, you follow Tang and get him giving the painting to Yang."

"Sounds good to me," Betty answered. "My man tells me Yang is still at the restaurant, but it looks like he's getting ready to do some traveling."

"I would imagine he is," Colby said.

"Okay," Betty said, "Tomlin's getting out of the car with the painting."

David said. "I wonder how he was planning on explaining this when he gets back to the office."

"I don't know. You'd think an agent would be smarter about committing a crime," Betty said with a chuckle.

"You'd think," David agreed. "Lucky for us most criminals are dumb as a box of rocks."

The agents watched as Tomlin approached Tang's car. The window of the Nissan rolled down as the agent approached, and Mike Tang leaned out the window.

Tom Yang's voice came across the earpieces. "Louis Tang just called Yang Chaoxiang. Crap! They're going to kill Tomlin."

"Damn!" David pulled his weapon and ran through the parking lot. As he was rounding the corner, he heard a gunshot and saw Tomlin fall. Tires squealed and the Nissan hurtled toward him. David dove out of the way, landing in the shrubs surrounding the McDonald's entrance. "Liu! Colby! Follow them! I'll get Tomlin."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Alan stood and gave Megan a hug in greeting. "Megan, dear, you look tired. What can I get for you?"

"Something with caffeine?" Megan said as she sank into the chair Liz pulled over for her. "Oh, that smells wonderful! Alan, are you sure there's enough for everyone?"

Alan laughed. "Having raised two healthy boys, I can assure you that nobody will walk away from this table hungry, even if I have to order pizza."

With the large salad Maggie had assembled, plus a healthy quantity of crusty Italian bread, the casserole did indeed manage to feed the eight people assembled around the table.

"It's not quite the feeding of the five thousand," Ben said, lifting his glass in a toast "but, Alan, I would say you've pulled off a minor miracle."

"The thanks goes to Maggie, for her wonderful casserole, and Amita for the salad," Alan said, standing to clear the table.

Maggie and Amita stood to help. Charlie started to rise, but Alan shook his head. "Why don't you, Don and Liz fill Ben and Megan in on the events of the past few hours? Ben might have heard of that Yang guy who bought the Van Gogh, and I'm sure Megan can help you figure out why these people are doing what they're doing."

"Yang?" Ben interrupted. "The buyer's surname is Yang?"

"Yeah. Yang Chaoxiang," Don said. "Why? You've heard of him?"

"The taxi driver who brought us home the night Jason LoBella confronted us was called Gene Yang. Now, I understand Yang is a fairly common name..."

"According to the 2000 US census, Yang is in the top 400 surnames," Charlie said. "There were approximately seventy two thousand people in the country with that name."

Don was stunned. "Now how on earth do you know that? Did you memorize the rankings of all the surnames in the country?"

"Of course not," Charlie scoffed. "I was gathering data to do a network analysis. By the way, Eppes is ranked twenty five thousand two hundred eighty fourth." He turned to Liz. "Did anybody check on this Gene Yang?"

Liz shrugged. "No reason to. He just happened to be there. It was a coincidence."

"Uh oh," Megan said, grinning at Charlie. "She used that word."

Charlie returned Megan's smile, then turned to Liz. "When you talk with David, could you ask him to check on Gene Yang? Just to humor me?" He pulled out his notebook and pencil. Scowling, he held the pencil awkwardly in his left hand. After a few moments, he muttered, "Damn," and tossed the pencil on the table. "I'll be in the garage."

"Why?" Don said, "You don't want Dad to see you using your right hand?"

"No," Charlie said without a glance back. "Writing on the boards uses the large muscles. It's easier than using the small muscles of the non-dominant hand."

Liz pulled out her cell phone. "I'll call David now."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

David knelt beside Tomlin. The man hadn't stood a chance. He was probably dead before he hit the pavement. "Sinclair here," he said into his mic. "Tomlin's dead. Granger and Liu are in pursuit of two Asian males driving a blue Nissan Altima."

He heard Tom's sigh. "Okay, Agent Sinclair. I'll send evidence response to your location. I've already been in touch with Liu and Granger."

"Have the Tangs made any phone calls?"

"They called Yang and told him they're on the way with the painting and Tomlin was dead. Yang asked if they were being followed and they said no."

"Thanks, Tom. Just a second. My cell phone's ringing." David opened his cell phone. "Sinclair."

"Hey, David," Liz said. "How's everything going?" 

"Tomlin's dead. Yang's men have got the Van Gogh. Colby and Betty are in pursuit. How's your day going?"

There was silence on the line for a long moment, then Liz said, "What can I do to help?"

David sighed. "Nothing at this point. Just keep an eye on things on the home front. We should have Yang and his guys soon, but for now, they're still at large. Did Megan get there yet?"

"Yeah. She's here. Alan fed us and now we're filling her in on the case. It may be nothing, but the cab driver who took Ben and Maggie home when they were accosted was named Yang. Charlie's trying to find a connection."

"You know how many Yangs there are in LA?"

"Nope. But Charlie does, I'm sure. My next call is to find out if that Yang had any kind of record."

"I'll talk to you later," David said, "Oh, and by the way, were there any leftovers? I'm starving."

"Knowing Alan, if you show up, you will not go hungry."

David grinned. "That's what I was hoping. See you later."

David closed his phone and looked down at Tomlin. Now he'd never know what kind of hold the Agincourts had on Tomlin. Or on all the other kids they corrupted over the years. He'd have to sit down and have a talk with Megan about this once they had everyone behind bars who belonged there.

Maybe she could make some sense of this.

But for now he had more pressing matters to deal with. "Colby? What's your status?"

"We're heading into Chinatown."

"The last Tom heard, they didn't think they were being followed. Does it look like they made you?"

"They'd have to be blind or overconfident not to. Any word on what's going on with Yang?"

Betty's voice interrupted. "Yang's had his car brought around. The Tang brothers are pretty low level. It's possible they wouldn't know we were on them."

"Are your people in place there at the restaurant, Liu?"

"Yeah. They're ready and waiting."

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Liz ended the call with David and immediately dialed again. At Don's questioning look, she whispered, "Just a minute." Once she had received the information about Gene Yang, she closed the phone. "Okay, they're emailing Gene Yang's information to Charlie."

Don's patience was wearing thin. "What did David have to say?"

"Tomlin's dead. The Tangs have the painting and are taking it to Yang in Chinatown. Colby and Liu are pursuing the Tangs, and David is waiting for evidence response."

Don stood and paced, rubbing his face with both hands. "Damn. It's hard to just sit here and do nothing."

"Donnie," Alan said from the kitchen doorway, "if you want to do something, go help with the dishes."

Don grinned. "I think I'll join Liz and Charlie in the garage instead."

Liz sat on the ratty old sofa, watching Charlie. She turned when Don entered. "You come to watch your brother try to write?"

"Ah, Liz, that's harsh," Don said walking to Charlie's side. "It is interesting. I couldn't read his math gibberish before. Now I can't even make out the English words."

"Funny," Charlie muttered. "Why don't you two go patrol the perimeter or something?"

"Seriously, Charlie, what are you working on?"

"I'm adding the cab driver to the mix. I'm just waiting for the email..." he paused as his computer beeped. "This might be it. Excuse me," he said as he pushed past Don. "Don't touch any of that," he added, "I can read it even if you can't."

Don chuckled. "I know you can, Buddy."

Charlie opened the most recent email. "Okay, this is what I was waiting for. Unless either of you two can help me input this, could you go ask Amita if she could come in here?"

"Grumpy, isn't he?" Liz murmured to Don as she stood.

"I'm only grumpy when I get picked on," Charlie growled. "Which, around here happens ninety nine percent of the time," he added.

"That's it," Liz said, laughing. "I'm going to go get Amita and leave you to your brotherly sniping."

Don took Liz's place on the couch, leaned back and closed his eyes. "I don't know about you, Buddy, but I'm too tired to snipe."

Charlie sat next to Don. "You feeling okay?"

"Just tired. I think it's that pain medication. How are you feeling?"

"My arm's sore. I think that's what's making me grumpy, actually. That and having to use my left hand. I think it's giving me a headache."

"Your arm is giving you a headache?" Don opened his eyes. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It does if you consider my brain is trying to learn a new way of doing things. If it wasn't so annoying, it would be interesting. Have you ever tried writing with your left hand?"

"Yeah, once or twice back in school. I tried to make myself ambidextrous."

"Really? Why?"

"Can you imagine how great it would be to have a pitcher who could throw with either arm? He could match up with whatever batter he was facing."

Charlie nodded. "That would be cool. I wonder why they've never had anyone do that before. There must be some ambidextrous baseball players...." He went back to his computer. "I'm going to see what I can find..."

"Charlie?" Amita said from the doorway. "Liz said you needed my help?"

Don craned his neck to look at Amita. "Do you happen to know of any ambidextrous baseball players?"

"What?! No!" Amita said, shaking her head. "I thought it was something to do with the case, not sports."

"Don't listen to him," Charlie said. "I think the drugs are messing with his brain. I do need some help inputting some new data from the FBI. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Amita said, sitting beside him.

"If you two are going to do math stuff, I'm going to take a nap," Don murmured, stretching out on the couch. "Wake me up when you get back to baseball."


	43. Chapter 43

Betty led the way, with Colby a couple of cars behind her. His GPS showed that the restaurant was three blocks away. "Betty? You want me to swing around the block and cut them off?"

"Sounds good," Betty's voice came through his earpiece. "Yang Chaoxiang drives a black Escalade, so he should be easy to spot."

"I'll bet," Colby chuckled.

"Damn," Betty muttered as the traffic light that separated her from the Tang's Nissan turned red. "I'm running it. There's nothing coming."

"I'll write your ticket later," Colby laughed as he made a sharp right turn.

"And I'll write you one for speeding."

"Tom? Did they make her?" Colby made a quick left and turned on his emergency lights.

"Doesn't sound like it. They're not calling anybody."

"Good. Maybe they're stupider than they look."

Betty interrupted, "Don't count on it, Granger. These guys have been giving us fits for years. They have no reason to believe we're on them."

Colby slammed on his brakes as a blue Mini pulled out in front of him. "Move it, idiot!" The driver of the Mini caught sight of Colby's SUV and quickly pulled out of the way. "That's better," Colby muttered as he drove around the Mini.

"They're pulling into the restaurant lot now," Betty said. "Are you in position, Granger?"

"I'm at the intersection now," Colby said as his car squealed around the corner. "Okay. I'm here." He turned off his emergency lights and drove toward the restaurant.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wakey wakey," Charlie shook Don's shoulder.

"Hmm? What?!" Don sat up. "Ow." He pressed his hand to his belly. "What's going on, Chuck?"

"Greg Harris," Charlie said.

Don blinked, trying to clear his blurring vision. "What? I thought the taxi driver was Greg Yang."

"That was Gene Yang, but I'm talking about ambidextrous pitchers. You told me to wake you up when we got back to baseball."

"What did you find out about Gene Yang?"

"No connection to this case at all."

"You sure?"

"Ninety six point seven percent sure."

"That's good enough for me," Don got to his feet, staggering slightly.

"Hey, Bro," Charlie grabbed Don's arm to steady him. "You'd better sit back down."

Don nodded and sat. "I am a little dizzy. Must be that damned OxyContin. I missed taking my first dose, so I took two when I remembered..." He pulled the bottle out of his pocket and squinted at the label. "Oops." He looked up at Charlie. "How often are you supposed to take your painkillers?"

"One every four hours, as needed. Why?"

"I must have been listening to your instructions instead of mine. I'm supposed to take mine once every twelve hours. No wonder I'm so sleepy."

Charlie pulled out his cell phone. "I'm calling poison control."

------------------------------------------------------

Colby ran toward the restaurant, weapon drawn. He heard Liu yelling, "FBI! Bu yao dong! Freeze!"

"Booyah?" he muttered into his mic.

Tom Yang chuckled. "Bu yao dong. It basically means 'freeze.'"

"Cool," Colby said. As he ran around the corner of the restaurant into the parking lot, he was nearly run down by a man carrying a familiar crate. Colby planted his feet and aimed at the man. The man stopped and dropped the crate. "Booyah dong! Freeze!"

"Booyah?" the man shook his head as he raised his hands. "Your accent sucks. Where'd you learn Mandarin?"

"On the job training. Hands behind your back, fingers interlocked, thumbs up." He glanced at Betty. "I assume this is Yang Chaoxiang?"

"Yep. Sorry I didn't introduce you."

Colby snapped the cuffs around Yang's wrists. "Ni hao, Yang. Did I say that right?"

Betty laughed. "Perfectly."

"You're gonna have to teach me how to say 'dirtbag' in Mandarin."

"Gladly. Later," Betty said. "How about we take these guys back and you handle the painting?"

Colby released Yang to Betty and glanced down at the crate. "You mean this?" he stomped on the crate, shattering it. At Yang's stunned expression, he laughed. "You don't think we'd actually let your idiot friends run off with the real thing, do you?"

Yang turned to the Tang brothers and let loose a tirade in Mandarin that made Betty blush.

"You can give me a translation later," Colby said.

Betty shook her head. "If I said those things, my mother would wash my mouth out with soap. Let's just say it wasn't very complimentary."

-----------------------------------------------------

Charlie paced in front of Don as he dialed. "Yes, my name is Charles Eppes. My brother, Don Eppes inadvertently took two OxyContins. Yeah, just a second," he took the bottle from Don. "Ten milligram. Right. No, he's just sleepy.... Age? .... Yeah, he's thirty nine.... How long ago? Don? How long ago?"

"An hour, maybe," Don said.

"An hour.... Uh, yeah. He's an FBI agent. He was just released from the hospital.... Gunshot wound.... Yeah... He apparently didn't pay attention when he was told the dose for his pills. He did, however, listen when the pharmacist told me MY instructions.... All right. I'll do that. Thank you very much."

"So?" Don asked when Charlie closed his phone.

"So we have to call your doctor and watch you to make sure you don't stop breathing. And don't take anything else until your doctor tells you."

"Why would Donnie stop breathing?" Alan's voice came from behind Charlie.

"Uh oh. Busted," Charlie said, turning to face his father. "Donnie accidentally took a double dose of his painkillers. I called poison control, and it's all cool."

"It is NOT cool, young man," Alan said. "Come on, Donnie. Let's get you back to the hospital."

"Aw, Dad, you heard Chuck. I just need to call my doctor."

"I don't see you dialing," Alan said, giving his older son an ominous glare.

"I was listening to Charlie," Don muttered, pulling his phone from his pocket. Just as he was ready to dial, the phone rang. Don glanced at the caller ID and answered the phone. "Colby!? What's up?"

Colby chuckled. "That was fast, Don. Were you waiting for my call?"

"No. I was getting ready to make a call. What's going on?"

"We got 'em all: the Tang brothers, and Yang Chaoxiang and his men."

"Everybody okay?"

"Pretty much. You heard about Tomlin?"

"Yeah. Everybody else is okay, though, right?"

"Yep. We're all good, bossman. And we pulled it off without you."

"Watch it, Granger," Don snarled. With a smile, he added, "Good job, Colby. Keep me posted, okay?"

Don finished the call and leaned back. "They got everyone."

"That's wonderful," Alan said, "now call your doctor."

----------------------------------------------------

"So, now what, Boss?" Colby tilted his chair back and put his feet on his desk. "Have we finally caught a break?" 

"Don't call me Boss," David snarled, "and no, we can't rest yet. We still have work to do. We haven't figured out yet who killed Ellen Davis or why."

Colby nodded slowly. "Now that we have everyone in custody, maybe we should have another chat with the husband."

"It can't hurt," David stood and picked up his jacket. "Let's go."

"Now?"

"Why not? Betty's crew is tied up with Yang and the Tangs. Liz is still babysitting the Eppes family. You got something better to do?"

Colby stood. "I don't know. Sleep? Eat? There's always something to eat at Charlie's house. Maybe we can give Liz a break from her babysitting duties."

"Aw, man, that sounds tempting. How about we talk to Mr. Davis and then I'll treat you to Pie 'n' Burger."

"All right. As long as I can have a burger AND pie."

"Hey, I'm no cheapskate. I'll even let you get fries."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Dad! You don't have to hover," Don snarled. "The doctor said I'll be fine. Maybe I should have let you talk to him."

"Why didn't you think of that while you had him on the phone?" Alan asked.

Don rolled his eyes. "Sorry. I'm over eighteen. He probably wouldn't talk to you anyway." 

"He would if you gave permission," Charlie chuckled at Don's glare. "Just trying to be helpful. So, Don, what did Colby say? Is everybody okay?"

Don nodded slowly. "Yeah, everyone but Tomlin. I wish we'd had a chance to talk to him to figure out why he got in with Agincourt's gang. I mean, did he join the FBI planning on something like this, or did Agincourt approach him and convince him to give up everything he worked for?"

Megan pulled a chair over and sat in front of Don and Liz. "We can figure it out, Don. What do we know about Tomlin? Is he married? How long has be been with the FBI?"

Don glanced at Liz. "Have you worked with Tomlin? I didn't really know him."

Liz shook her head. "Sorry. No."

"That's okay," Megan said, "We can go through his belongings, read his computer files, check his phone records. I can do a psychological profile and Charlie can perform his math magic. We'll find out why he did what he did."

Don grinned. "Welcome back to the team, Reeves."

Megan smiled sadly. "You don't know how I have waited to get back to simple investigation."

"Simple?" Don snorted. "The DOJ assignment must have really been something if you consider this case simple."

Megan shook her head. "You don't know the half of it." She stood slowly. "I'm going to head in to the office and see what I can find out. I'm guessing David and Colby are busy with reports right now."

Don laughed. "That's one thing I'm not going to miss while I'm on medical leave."

Ben and Maggie had sat quietly, but when Megan stood, Ben stood as well. "I believe we'll go back to our apartment. I'm assuming we're safe now?"

Liz glanced at Don. "I don't see why they need to stay here. Do you, Don?"

Don shook his head. "The only problem I can see is that they don't have their car."

"I've got my car," Megan said, "I'll drop you guys off on the way downtown."

"You don't need to do that," Maggie said. "We'll just call a cab."

"Don't be silly," Megan said. "Come on."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Here we are," David said, pulling the SUV into Ed Davis' driveway behind three other cars.

"I hope the funeral isn't today," Colby said as they walked to the front door. "That would stink."

"It would. Keep your fingers crossed." David rang the doorbell.

A woman who appeared to be in her late thirties opened the door. "Yes?"

"May we speak with Mr. Davis?" David asked.

"Who's asking?" she glanced with obvious concern at the two men.

David reluctantly pulled out his badge. "Special Agents Sinclair and Granger. We'd like to speak with him regarding his wife's death."

The woman studied David's badge, then sighed. "I'll go see if he wants to talk to you. You two stay here." She stepped back into the house and closed the door.

A moment later, Ed Davis opened the door. "I'm sorry. Please come in."

The woman hovered behind Ed. "Eddie? You need me to stay here?"

"No, Esther. It's fine. These gentlemen are helping find out who killed your sister."

"It's about time." Esther turned and walked out of the room.

"If this is a bad time …" David started.

"No. No. Not at all. Please come in." Ed led them into the living room. "Please, have a seat. Did you find my wife's murderer?"

David shook his head. "Unfortunately, not yet. We do have everyone who was involved in the art thefts in custody. We're hoping you could help us narrow down the list of suspects."

"I told you I didn't know anything about this. That other agent I talked to – Eppes? -- said the FBI was going over the physical evidence. Did that turn anything up?"

David exchanged glances with Colby, who said, "I'm afraid not. We retrieved the bullet that killed her, but ballistics hasn't turned up a match with a weapon yet."

Ed sighed. "Those CSI shows make it look so easy. I guess real crimes aren't solved in an hour. Did you find the guy that ran that career group she was involved in?"

"We did," Colby said. "His name is Fred Agincourt. We don't think he was involved in the thefts, but other members of his family were. You told Agent Eppes that her routine changed when she joined Agincourt's group. Did her behavior or mood change at all during that time? Did she seem upset or worried at all?"

"She seemed a little stressed, but I figured it was just the extra work. Now that I think of it, she did seem worried a few days before ... before she was killed."

"Tell us about it," David said softly.

"She came home from one of those group meetings and said she'd had it. She had told Agincourt she wanted to quit the group. I asked her what he thought of that, and she said she didn't care."

"Did she say what was wrong?" Colby asked.

"I just assumed it was the usual. Agincourt couldn't control the kids and left her to the dirty work. But, no, she didn't say ...." A look of surprise crossed Ed's face. "You don't think Agincourt killed her because she wanted to quit, do you?"

"No," David said. "In fact, we don't believe Fred Agincourt was involved in her murder at all."

Ed buried his face in his hands. "I don't get it," his voice was muffled. "What are you looking for from me?" He looked up at David. "Was she involved in the art theft gang or not? Was she killed because of that, or was it something else? Or don't you know a damned thing?"

"We're still investigating," David said softly. "You told us there was nothing unusual the day of the theft."

"Right. She left for work. I kissed her goodbye ..."

"Did she say anything about Agincourt's group that morning?" Colby asked.

"No ...," Ed began. He stopped, thinking. "But the night before was a Thursday, and she stayed late for Agincourt's group. I told her I thought she'd quit, and she said she had one more thing to finish up on Friday, and then she was done." He glanced from David to Colby and back again. "I guess that one thing was stealing the painting."

David said, "That's something we'll definitely ask the Agincourts about."

"Maybe you could ask them how they got her involved in this thing," Ed said. "She had no reason to be involved in anything illegal."

"Is there anything in her past that could be used to pressure her ...?" Colby asked.

"No! Ellen was a good woman all her life. There was nothing!"

"We have reason to believe her cousin was also involved."

"Greg?" Ed shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. "Greg's not a bad kid, but his father was a real piece of work."

"How so?" David asked, turning a page in his notebook.

"From the time he was a teenager, he was nothing but trouble. Drinking, smoking, doing drugs, stealing to support his habits. You name it, he did it. It's amazing Greg turned out to be such a good kid. But you say he was involved?"

David nodded. "What's his father's name?"

"Donald Spencer. I'm willing to bet your computers will light up when you enter his name."

The kitchen door opened, and Esther entered. "Eddie, you've got a phone call. Do you want me to take a message?"

Ed looked questioningly at David, "Are we done?"

David stood, reaching to shake Ed's hand. "I think so. You've been very helpful. Give us a call if you think of anything else, okay?"

"Okay. I hope you find out who did this. And how they dragged Ellen into this."

"Oh, we will," Colby said, standing. "Don't you worry about that, Mr. Davis."


	44. Chapter 44

Megan entered Ben and Maggie's address into her GPS system. "This is a lot easier than scribbling directions on the back of an envelope," she said with a grin.

"It is," Maggie said, slipping into the back seat. "Do you ever find yourself talking back to the GPS woman?"

"Oh, I thought I was the only one," Megan said. "Turn right. No. Turn right. No. Recalculating ..."

Ben closed the front passenger's door and fastened his seatbelt. "I do believe she sounds frustrated when I don't pay attention to her."

"Kind of like a wife?" Megan asked.

Ben raised his hands in surrender. "I'll take the fifth on that, Agent."

"Good idea," Megan chuckled as she backed out of the driveway. "So, how much longer do you folks have at Cal Sci?"

"This is our last semester, sadly," Ben said. "It'll be nice to be back home, but I'm definitely going to miss everybody here."

"Me too," Maggie said. "We've toyed with the idea of submitting our resumes to some of the colleges around here."

"I think you'd love it here. I'm from back east too," Megan said, "and I must say the weather out here is a lot better than it is back home."

"It's not just the weather," Ben said, "We are really enjoying our time at Cal Sci, and working on cases with your team has been very exhilarating."

Megan nodded. "It is great catching the bad guys, isn't it? When you can tell them apart from the so-called good guys, that is."

"Your DOJ assignment didn't go well, did it?" Maggie asked softly.

Megan hesitated, pursing her lips. "No, it didn't. But I really can't talk about that yet."

"Sorry," Maggie said, "So whereabouts back east are you from?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"So, what was your impression of Mr. Davis?" Colby asked as he stirred his coffee.

David swallowed his sip of soda and said, "I believe him. How about you?"

"He seemed like he was on the level. You talked with him before. Does he seem any different today than he did then?"

David shrugged. "A little more frustrated at us." He picked up his burger. "I thought you were starving. Shut up and eat, will you?"

Colby picked up his hamburger. "At least the poor guy isn't a suspect." He took a bite and closed his eyes. "This is great," he said around a mouthful.

"Damn it, Granger. How carefully did we check out Mr. Davis?"

"With the thousand and one other suspects we have? I doubt we even looked at his background. Why?"

"Well, it's a long shot, but what if he found out his wife was involved in this crime ring and wasn't exactly thrilled?"

Colby sighed. He took another bite of his burger and chewed thoughtfully before answering. "Makes a lot more sense than the Agincourts or the Chinese mob killing her."

David swallowed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "But on the other hand, she could have done something to tick off the Agincourts. Or someone else could have wanted that painting enough to kill for it."

"Either way, it doesn't look like we're going home any time soon."

"Home? What's that?"

"Shut up and eat," Colby shook his head as he took another bite.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don stretched gingerly. "I think I'm going to head off to bed."

Liz stood. "Let me have a look upstairs first."

Don chuckled. "You don't really think Chuck heard anything besides a raccoon, do you?"

"Shaddup," Charlie muttered, not looking up from his computer. "Hey, I just got an email from David."

Don stood and, with Liz steadying him, walked to Charlie's side. "What's it say?"

"It's a file on Ellen Davis's husband. He wants me to put him in my program."

Amita chuckled. "By the time we're finished, you're going to have the entire population of Los Angeles in that program."

Charlie stifled a yawn and turned to Amita. "Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee? I think I'm going to be at this for a while."

"You need to get some rest," Alan said. "Don, tell him to put this aside for now."

Don shrugged as he walked toward the stairs. "Sorry. I'm on medical leave. You'll have to talk to David about that. Besides, you know how Charlie is when he gets working on something."

Alan sighed. "Unfortunately, I know how both of you are when you sink your teeth into a problem. I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight, Dad," Charlie glanced up from his computer. "Don, you want me to wake you up when I have something? No, wait. I forgot. You're on medical leave."

"Smart aleck. You'd better wake me up if you solve the case. Medical leave or not, I want to know about it."

"Control freak," Charlie muttered.

Liz laughed. "I think that's in his job description."

"I've got to keep my team under control," Don said with a shrug. "Goodnight, Amita. Goodnight, Chuck."

Don watched with amusement as Liz checked his room. "Is it clear, Agent Warner?"

"It's clear, Agent Eppes. Hey, you can make fun if you want, but if you wake up hearing a strange noise, you'll thank me for checking."

"I know. Now I know how Charlie felt when David was on protection detail." Don paused, his hand on the doorknob. "You coming in with me?"

"With your family here? No way."

"Hey, we're adults. And they know we're not just friends."

Liz put her arms around Don's neck and gave him a kiss. "You really think you're up to it?"

"Good point. So what are you going to do? Watch the geeks do their thing?"

Liz rolled her eyes. "Not likely. I wouldn't understand a word they said. I'll see what's on TV."

"Sounds exciting."

"More exciting than listening to you snore or watching Charlie and Amita do their computer thing."

"Good point. Even an infomercial would beat those choices." He kissed Liz. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Look who's here," David said as he and Colby crossed the bullpen.

"Hey!" Megan looked up from her computer. "I was beginning to think you guys had gone home."

"It's good to see you, too," Colby said with a grin. "How're you doing, Megan?"

"Better now that I'm back here."

"What're you working on?" David said, craning his neck to see Megan's screen.

"Background on Tomlin. You guys have anything new?"

"Not really," David said, turning on his computer. "Just a couple more leads we need to check out. Like we need more leads on this case."

Colby dropped into his chair. "David already emailed Charlie asking him to plug Ellen Davis' husband into his magic program. Now the husband mentioned that Ellen's brother, Greg Spencer's father, is a lowlife, so we gotta check him out too."

Megan rolled her eyes and opened her desk drawer. "Here, it looks like we're all going to need some chocolate." She pulled out a bag of Hershey Kisses and set them on the corner of her desk.

"I'll get the coffee," Colby said, standing and heading toward the break room.

"Two basic food groups," David said with a chuckle. "So, what did you find on Tomlin?"

"Not much. He's been here for ten years. No commendations, but no black marks in his file either. You've been here longer than I have. Did you know him?"

"Not really. He pretty much kept to himself." David paused, smiling. "Isn't that what people always say when they find out their next door neighbor is a serial killer?"

"Pretty much," Megan agreed. "So, what's Ellen's brother's name?"

"Donald Spencer. I've got his record coming up now."

"Here you go," Colby set coffee cups in front of Megan and David and sat at his desk. "What've you got on Spencer?"

"Ed Davis wasn't kidding. The guy's a real loser. Bad checks, drugs, burglary. But nothing big."

"Hmm," Colby said, "any connection with the Agincourts?"

"Nothing I can see from here. I wonder if Charlie is still up."

Megan looked up from her monitor. "He was working on putting Ed Davis in his program when I left the house. You want me to call him?"

"I'll just email him this file and see what he can do with it."

-----------------------------------------------------

Amita sat on the couch, Charlie's head on her lap. He sighed in his sleep, and she idly ran her fingers through his hair. He had stayed awake long enough to study the information David had sent him and show her what needed to be done. But after that he had faded fast.

Now she sat, Charlie's laptop balanced on the arm of the couch, making the changes to the program.

A new mail message popped up on the screen. When Amita clicked on the message and realized it was from David, she opened it. She toyed with the idea of waking Charlie, but decided he needed his sleep. She read the information David had forwarded, then replied to David's email, signing her name instead of Charlie's.

As she typed, she wondered when she had started feeling comfortable picking up Charlie's work where he left off. In just a few years, she had gone from a student in awe of her thesis advisor to his colleague. And so much more. She smiled as she brushed a stray curl from his face.

In a few minutes, the changes were made and the program was recalculating. She moved the computer onto the end table and tried to get comfortable without disturbing Charlie. Across the room, Liz glanced up from the movie she was watching. "How's it going?" she asked Amita.

"Good. David just sent us another file to work with." She glanced down at Charlie, who had stirred and mumbled something. "Shhh," she whispered, gently stroking his face. He sighed and stilled. "I'll wake him up when the program finishes doing its thing."

Liz stretched and moved to the chair across from Amita. "It's been a rough week for the Eppes brothers, hasn't it?"

Amita nodded. "It has. But they don't give up, do they?"

Liz chuckled. "Never. I saw it in Don back at Quantico, but I was amazed at how tenacious Charlie can be. They must have given their parents conniptions when they were growing up."

"True. I'm surprised Alan doesn't have more gray hair."

"He should by now. What was that?" Liz asked as the computer beeped.

"Looks like we've got some results."

"Already?" Charlie muttered.

"How long have you been listening?" Amita asked as he sat up.

"The computer beep woke me up," Charlie stretched and reached across Amita for the computer.

"Here," Liz said, "let me get it for you." She lifted the computer and put it on Charlie's lap. "We don't need you straining that arm of yours."

"Thanks. Amita, what's this?"

"I put in some data David sent me while you were sleeping. Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Donald Spencer? Is he related to Greg?"

"His father. According to Mr. Davis, he was a real loser."

"I guess so. Remember that case Don had with the lady who robbed the jewelry store? She got roped into it by her lowlife brother."

"I remember that," Amita said. "You think this is the same kind of thing?"

"Could be. Is David in the office?"

"I don't know. The email was from his FBI account, but he could have sent it from anywhere."

Charlie smiled. "Well, not from ANYWHERE, but I'm too tired to lecture you now."

"Thank goodness," Liz breathed. "I'm way too tired to listen to your lecture. Let me call David and see where he is."


	45. Chapter 45

The next morning, Liz shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. Alan stood at the sink, steaming cup of coffee in his hand. "Liz, good morning."

"Hi, Alan. You're up early."

"I went to bed earlier than anyone else. Help yourself to coffee. I'm just getting ready to make French toast. Would you like some?"

"I'd love some," Liz said, pouring herself a mug of coffee. "I think I'll be out of your hair later today."

Alan took a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. "Now that statement puts me in a rather difficult situation. I'm glad there's no need to have a live-in FBI agent – other than Don, of course. But on the other hand, I don't want to make it sound like I'll be glad to be rid of you."

"Don't worry," Liz said with a chuckle, "I understand.

"So, how did everything go last night?" Alan asked as he cracked eggs into a shallow bowl.

"You mean this morning? Charlie wanted to go to the office and show David his latest findings."

"And David wasn't all that interested?"

"He was interested. But he and Colby were ready to call it a night. And to be honest, Charlie was running on fumes, too. He didn't put up much of an argument when David told him it could wait until morning."

Alan laughed as he beat the eggs gently with a fork. "Even the Energizer bunny runs down eventually." He glanced up at the ceiling, "I don't hear a sound from upstairs. I think both bunnies have run down."

"I think you're right. Don was sleeping like a log when…" she paused, blushing.

"We're all grownups here, Liz. What? You think I assumed you guys end every date with a kiss goodnight on the front steps?" Alan began heating the skillet.

"Uh, no… I just…"

"You have a good upbringing, and were taught not to discuss such things with parents. Did Donnie sleep well last night?"

Liz shrugged. "He tossed and turned a couple of times, but other than that, he slept well. He felt a little warm. I hope he's not coming down with an infection."

"We'll keep an eye on him for the next couple of days. I'll make sure he stays here for a few days if I have to hide his car keys. Would you hand me the butter?"

"Sure," Liz said as she handed Alan the butter dish. "And I won't offer him a ride home until he has your approval."

Alan lifted his coffee cup in a toast. "Deal." He put down his cup and began cutting pats of butter and dropping them onto the warm skillet.

"You don't put milk in the eggs?"

"Nope. Just eggs. Why? You like it with milk?"

"It doesn't matter. My mom always used milk. I've never made French toast myself."

Alan dipped a slice of bread into the eggs, turned it over and then eased it into the sizzling butter. "Would you mind getting the syrup? It's in the cupboard behind you."

"No problem. Want me to set the table?"

"That would be nice. How many pieces would you like, to start with?"

"Two would be great. Maybe I'll have more with Don when he gets up."

"Two it is. But don't count on either of those boys being up before lunchtime."

"Good point." Liz took the syrup, plates and silverware into the dining room.

When Alan came in, carrying a platter of steaming French toast and the butter dish, Liz was studying the pictures on the buffet. She picked up a framed photograph of a baby standing shakily. He was steadying himself with one hand on the couch. "Don?"

Alan put down what he was carrying and looked over Liz's shoulder. "Yes it is. He was determined even then. He walked before he hit nine months. Charlie," Alan picked up a photo of a curly haired cherub, "he didn't walk until he was a year old."

Liz chuckled as she replaced the photo. "He was probably thinking important thoughts instead of wasting time walking."

A footstep creaked on the stairway, causing them both to look up. A bleary-eyed Don walked gingerly down the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. "Hey, you two talking about me?"

"Hey, Don. You need a hand?" Liz started up the stairs.

"Nah. I've got it." He stopped and sniffed the air, a smile crossing his face. "Pancakes?"

"Afraid not," Alan said, "French toast. But if you give me a few minutes, I can make pancakes."

"French toast is fine with me. And coffee. Lots of coffee," Don said, easing himself into the nearest dining room chair.

"Your wish is my command," Liz placed a kiss on the top of Don's head. "Splenda, no cream, right?"

"You got it," Don rubbed his belly and winced. "And whatever painkillers I'm allowed to take."

Alan and Liz both checked their watches. "I think we can arrange a nice Oxycontin for you," Liz said. "Alan, you sit. I'll take care of the invalid."

"Invalid, huh?" Don said, shaking his head. "See that, Dad? I get no respect from my team."

"But you do get something better," Alan said with a smirk. "How are you feeling, Son? Liz said you felt a little warm. And Dr. Torre did say there's a risk of infection…"

"Dad, they filled me so full of antibiotics in the hospital, I doubt…" Don paused, studying his father's expression. "Go ahead, feel my forehead." He leaned forward and let Alan press his palm to his forehead.

Liz returned with a mug of coffee and a prescription bottle. "My mom had a built in thermometer in her hand too."

"You were right, Liz. He is warm."

Don sighed. "I'll call the doctor when his office opens, okay?"

Liz handed Don the cup and opened the pill bottle. "You have him well trained, Alan."

"It's just because you're here, my dear. He doesn't want you to see him pouting."

Don rolled his eyes as he took the pill from Liz. "See what I have to put up with?"

"Poor baby. You're lucky to have a dad who worries about you."

The scent of freshly brewed coffee woke Amita. She snuggled up against Charlie's back and wrapped her arm around him, carefully avoiding his injured arm. Except for a deep breath, he didn't even stir. She placed a gentle kiss on the back of his neck and eased herself out of bed.

Once she was dressed, she bent and kissed him again and quietly left the room. Don, Alan and Liz looked up to greet her as she walked down the stairs. Alan stood. "Amita, grab a cup of coffee and have a seat. Would you like French toast?"

"I'd love some. But don't go to any trouble on my account."

"No trouble at all. Everything's all ready to go," Alan said on his way to the kitchen.

Don grinned. "I think he's enjoying being Suzy Homemaker. Is Chuck still sleeping?"

Liz reached for the syrup. "I thought he'd be up at the crack of dawn to tell David his findings."

Amita laughed. "He probably would have if it hadn't been the crack of dawn when he finally fell asleep."

Don leaned forward and whispered, "So what did he find out that he was so anxious to share with David?"

"Donald Spencer, Greg Spencer's dad and Ellen Davis's brother, is a lowlife. But David knew that when he emailed his file. Charlie found out that Donald Spencer has a drug problem."

"So?" Don asked "What difference does that make?"

"He was making money dealing drugs, but because he was a user, he skimmed some of the goods. From Yang Chaoxiang."

Liz looked confused. "I thought Yang was into stolen goods."

"He runs a diversified business," Charlie said from the stairway.

"Charlie!" Amita stood and hurried to his side. "Let me give you a hand. I thought you were still sleeping."

"I can make it myself," Charlie said, mildly irritated. "It's just my arm."

Amita took a step away from him. "Sorry. Hey, I was just telling Don and Liz about your findings."

"I heard." He reddened and reached for her hand. "I'm sorry. I'm a little cranky this morning."

"A little?" Don scoffed. "You didn't have to bite her head off. So, it looks like you found out how Ellen got involved."

Charlie shrugged and winced as he sat. "It's speculation so far, but mathematically it makes sense. I need to sit down with David and Colby. And Megan." He grinned. "It's good to see her back, isn't it? Too bad Larry wasn't here to greet her."

"When is Larry coming back?" Alan returned from the kitchen, carrying a platter of steaming French toast. "I miss having someone I can beat at chess."

"I'll bet you could beat Don," Charlie smirked.

"He won't play any more. Here, you folks help yourself. I need to grab the coffee.

Charlie glanced at Don. "Chicken."

"Hey, if you play him in Scrabble, I'll play him in chess."

"No way!" Charlie shook his head as he reached for the syrup. "Scrabble is evil."

"Only to the illiterate," Don said with a laugh.

----------------------------

"Thank you! You're a lifesaver!" Megan took the cup of coffee David offered.

"Did you go home at all?" David asked as he dropped into his seat.

"I have a lot of catching up to do." Megan lifted the lid from the cup and inhaled the scent deeply. "Caramel macchiato! You remembered!"

"Even after all this time. It does seem like forever, doesn't it?"

"More than you know," Megan said sadly.

After an awkward few moments of silence, David asked, "Have you seen Colby yet?"

"He's with Betty Liu. She's filling him in on the Chinese gang connection."

"I brought him coffee too," David said, lifting his own cup from the cardboard tray and setting the remaining cup on Colby's desk.

Megan grinned. "You're a nice boss."

"Keep that up and I'll take the coffee back," David growled. "Don's the boss. And if you'd been here where you belonged when he got shot, you'd be running his team."

"You're doing a good job, David. But we both know this is Don's team, and he'll have our butts if we don't wrap this up nice and neat with a bow on top." She nodded at the computer monitor. "Which is why I've been here all night. Have you heard from Charlie?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." David picked up the phone. "You think it's too early to call him?"

Megan checked her watch. "If he wants to sleep, he should turn his phone off. Give him a try. And put it on speaker."

"Yes ma'am," David chuckled.

They stared at the phone and waited for Charlie to pick it up. "He must be asleep," Megan said.

Suddenly, the ringing stopped and a breathless voice said, "Charles Eppes."

"Charlie!" Megan said, "It's Megan and David. Did we wake you up?"

Charlie's voice was surrounded by background noise. "Uh, no. I was just going through security. It just took a while to grab my phone. Are you in the office?"

"We're here," David said. "I hear you've got something for us. Will we be able to wrap this case up and hand it to Don with a bow on top?"

Don's voice came through the phone, "You'd better!"

David and Megan exchanged glances. "Don?" David said. "You coming back to take over?"

"No such luck, Buddy," Don laughed. "We're getting into the elevator now. See you in a minute. That'll give you time to get out of my chair."

"Nah, Don," Megan said, "Granger's taken over your chair."

-----------------------

A few moments later, the elevator door opened, and Charlie, Don, and Liz entered the bullpen. "Hey, guys," Megan said. "I knew you couldn't stay away."

"It's Charlie's fault," Don said as he eased himself into his chair. "He wanted to tell you in person."

Charlie, his right arm in his sling, was fumbling with his computer bag. "It's not really big on its own. But it's the key to everything else." He gave up on getting his computer out and sat down on the corner of David's desk. "You sent me the file on Greg Spencer's lowlife father, Donald Spencer."

"Right," David said, "Ellen Davis's brother."

"When I entered his information into my program, I discovered something we had all missed before. Donald Spencer has a connection with Yang Chaoxiang's illegal drug business."

"Okay," David said, "let's get Colby and Betty in here to discuss this." He picked up the phone and dialed Betty Liu's extension. "Hey, Betty, this is David Sinclair. We've just found out about a connection between Yang and the brother of our dead art thief…. Yeah….. Would you like us to come to your office or you want to come here?.... Okay, see you in a few minutes." He hung up the phone. "Betty and Colby will be here in a minute. Why don't we hold off until they get here?"

Charlie took the opportunity to wrestle his laptop from its case, with a little help from Megan. "Where's Amita?" Megan asked.

"She's at CalSci," Charlie said with a grin. "She's covering my classes as well as handling her own. There's something to be said for medical leave."

"Medical leave, and yet here you are, working just as hard as you were before." David chuckled. "Let's hope the AD doesn't see you two. Especially you," he said with a nod at Don.

Charlie glanced nervously at Don. "Are you going to get in trouble? I told you you didn't have to come…"

"Nah. No trouble at all. There's no problem with a victim stopping by to see how the case against his perpetrators is going. Right, David?"

David shook his head. "Makes sense to me. Let's hope we don't have to see if it makes sense to AD Wright." He glanced up to see Colby and Betty approaching.

Colby grinned. "Don! Whiz Kid! How's it going?"

Don stood. "I hear this is your chair now, Granger."

"Uh, no. You sit." He glared at Megan. "Where'd you get that idea, Boss?"

"Just a rumor I heard." He turned to Betty. "Hey, Betty. How's it going with the gang angle?"

"It's going great, Don." She turned to Charlie, "And you must be Dr. Eppes. I'm Betty Liu. I've heard wonderful things about your work."

Charlie blushed happily as he shook her hand. "Thank you. And please call me Charlie."

Betty pulled over a chair and sat. "So, Charlie, what do you have for us?"

"The first painting was stolen by a woman named Ellen Spencer. She was later murdered. We thought the murder was connected with the gang that stole the paintings, but I discovered a connection between Ellen's brother Donald and your gang leader, Yang Chaoxiang that's totally unrelated to the art theft."

"Really?" Betty leaned forward. "What connection?"

"Were you aware of Yang's involvement in illegal drugs?"

"Of course. It's one of his bit profit centers. Donald Spencer was involved with drugs?"

Don nodded. "Strictly smalltime. He's a junkie who got a nice job pushing for Yang. But our boy is no rocket scientist. He was shorting Yang's customers to feed his own habit."

"And Yang was understandably unhappy," Betty said with a nod. "So he got Ellen involved in the art gang?"

Charlie shook his head. "The data don't support that conclusion. I don't think Donald even knew about the art theft ring. I think it's more likely that neither Ellen nor Donald knew about the other's involvement. Until Donald saw the news coverage about the theft."

Liz nodded. "They showed some of the security camera footage on the news. You think Donald saw that and recognized his sister?"

Charlie turned to Betty. "It's all speculation, of course. But I believe Donald killed his own sister to steal the painting for himself."

"You think he's going to sell it to pay his debt to Yang? Or was he buying himself some life insurance? Using the painting to keep Yang from killing him?"

Charlie shrugged. "I don't have enough data, but I think the connection is worth pursuing."

Betty glanced from Don to Liz. "You two agree with Charlie's assessment?"

Liz grinned. "I never understand how he gets there, but Charlie's assessments are usually right."

Don chuckled. "Who knows where it'll lead, but it is definitely worth pursuing. What evidence did they get from the fast food place where they found Ellen Davis's body?"

Megan turned to her computer. "Not much. It looks like she was killed where they found her. Her car was pulled alongside a dumpster. The door was open. The conclusion was that she parked beside the dumpster and got out of the car, probably meeting her killer."

"Fingerprints?"

"Nothing unexpected." Megan paused and smiled. "But look at this. Inside her car were prints of Ellen's family and friends."

"Including her brother?" Don asked.

"Including her brother."

Author's note: If you go back through the chapters or have an exceptionally good memory (better than mine!) you'll know that I've described Greg Spencer as Ellen Davis's cousin. Well, pretend that never happened. Through the magic of fiction, Greg is now Ellen's nephew.


	46. Chapter 46

Donald Spencer looked up, scowling, as David opened the interrogation room door. David was surprised at how old the man looked. According to his file, Spencer was only thirty nine years old. He looked sixty. David tossed a file folder onto the table and sat down across from Spencer.

Spencer shifted his gaze to the folder. "I want a lawyer."

"You're not under arrest."

"I'm not? So I can leave any time I want?"

"Sure," David shrugged.

Spencer stood.

As Spencer headed toward the door, David said, "Of course, Yang Chaoxiang's people are very interested in finding the person who took the Van Gogh your sister had with her when she was murdered."

"What's that got to do with me? I didn't kill her and I don't have any painting."

"Your fingerprints were found at the scene."

"So? I've ridden in her car before. No big deal."

"Did you hang out at the dumpster next to where her body was found too? You work at that fast food joint or something?"

"Whattaya mean? I was never there."

David opened the folder. "According to this your hands were."

Spencer lowered himself back into his chair and regarded David with narrowed eyes. "So if you got all that against me, why haven't you arrested me?"

David shrugged. "I'm sure we'll get around to it, Spencer. But right now, I want to know more about Yang."

"You think I killed another human being and all you're interested in is whether I can help you nail a druglord? You guys are a real piece of work."

In the observation room, Charlie turned to Don. "They wouldn't really let him get away with killing Ellen, would they?"

Don shook his head and nodded toward the window. "Listen."

David had picked up the folder and was perusing its contents as Spencer shifted nervously in his seat. Finally, he looked up. "That's not all we're interested in. We're only talking about the difference between the death penalty and life in prison."

"Death?" Spencer's voice squeaked. "California doesn't have the death penalty."

David smiled slowly. "Yeah, it does. And you're a prime candidate. Killing your own sister because you're in trouble with a druglord. I don't think any jury will take pity on you."

"But I didn't kill her…"

"All the evidence points to you. Why did you kill her? So you could get the painting?"

Spencer slammed his hands on the table. "I told you, I didn't kill her."

"But you were there."

Spencer took a deep breath and sighed. "I was there. She called me and said she wanted out. She was fed up with cleaning up my messes. She told me to take the damned painting and do whatever I wanted with it, but she was done. When I got there she was dead and the painting was gone."

"How did she get involved to begin with? Was it because of your problems with Yang?"

Spencer nodded. "Mr. Yang knew somehow that my sister worked with one of those damned Agincourt brothers. He had me brought into his office and told me that the Agincourts needed my sister's help and I was to see to it that she did whatever they needed." He looked up at David, pleading, "He was gonna kill me, man. What was I supposed to do?"

David stood slowly, scowling down at Spencer. "You weren't supposed to use your sister to save your own miserable life. Maybe – just maybe – you didn't kill her with your own hands, but she's dead because of you." He turned and left the room.

In the observation room, Charlie released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Wow," he whispered.

The door opened and David threw the file folder onto the table in front of Colby. "I couldn't stand the stink in there. You talk to him."

Colby stood, cracking his knuckles. "You want I should rough him up a little, Boss?"

David shook his head. "As much as I'd enjoy watching that, you'd better not. Just see what he knows about who killed his sister and took the painting. We know Francis Agincourt ended up with it, but we don't know how." David sank into the chair Colby had vacated. "What a scumbag," he muttered.

Charlie's voice was barely above a whisper. "Was he telling the truth?"

David shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but I think so. He's still a scumbag…"

"Agreed," Charlie said. "But you made it clear to him that he's fighting for his life now. He stands to lose everything if he doesn't cooperate with you."

"That's the object," Colby said. "He's got to believe that we really do have enough evidence to convict him, and that a jury will have no sympathy for him."

"So now you're going to be 'good cop?'"

The agents laughed. "Charlie," Don said, "you watch too much TV."

Blushing, Charlie said, "Okay, so you don't really call it that. But the principle is the same. You've scared the crap out of Spencer. Now you've withdrawn to let him think about it. Then Colby goes in to negotiate with him."

"Tit for tat," David said, nodding.

"Right. Like Don did with the death row guy." Charlie glanced at Colby. "Spencer made his move by deciding to stay and listen. What are you going to give him in exchange?"

"Protection from Yang?" Colby suggested.

Don and David nodded. "That'll work," Don said. "Have you talked to an AUSA yet?"

"Not yet," David said. "I have a call into Alvin Brickle. He hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"Okay," Colby said, his hand on the doorknob, "I won't promise anything I might not be able to deliver."

"That's good," Charlie said. "He's got to trust you or it won't work."

As Colby left, Don grinned at David. "Do you think you should have had someone else call Brickle? The last time you two worked together he got shot at."

"Hey, he got out of it without a scratch," David chuckled.

"True," Don said. "But he whined about it for the next six months."

"What a wuss," Charlie said, grinning. "I've actually been shot and you don't hear me whining."

"Is anybody else available?" Don asked.

"I tried Howard Meeks, but he's swamped." David hesitated. "Robin's back…"

Don's head jerked up. "Robin?" he said weakly.

"You want me to call her?"

Don shook his head. "I don't think I can deal with that now. Of course, you're the lead agent on this case, so it's up to you. Just warn me if you're going to call her, okay? I don't want to be around…"

"I'll wait for Brickle," David said, exchanging worried glances with Charlie.

Don noticed the exchange. "Let's just say things didn't end well with me and Robin. Does Liz know she's back?"

"Yeah," David said.

"She didn't say anything."

"She probably assumed it was over between you and Robin."

"It is," Don snapped. His expression softened. "It's over between us. I just don't want Liz to worry about that." He shrugged. "She tends to be worried about my reputation."

Charlie snorted. "With good reason, Bro."

"Shut up," Don snarled. "Let's listen to Colby and Spencer."

---------------------------------------

Colby was sitting across the table from Spencer. He leaned back in his chair, relaxing as Spencer shouted.

"I don't know who killed her!" Spencer stood and began to pace. "I just know I didn't."

Colby regarded the man with disdain. "So, like O.J. Simpson, you're going to do whatever you can to find the real killer, right?"

Spencer stopped pacing, and turned to face Colby. "Yeah. Of course. I don't know what I can do to help though."

"Sit down and answer my questions. Listen, I know Yang's gang is not very happy with you now…"

Spencer seemed to deflate as he dropped into a chair. "I'm dead if he gets ahold of me. His goons have already made that clear to me. Ellen getting the painting was supposed to take care of it. But then she backed out."

"We can protect you. But you've got to give us something. How did Francis Agincourt get the painting to sell it to a dealer? Why didn't he turn it over to Yang?"

"How the hell do I know?"

Colby started to stand, but then paused and glanced at the one-way mirror leading to the observation room. With a sigh, he sat. "Okay, just tell me what you do know. From the beginning."

"You gonna protect me from Yang?"

"Yeah. You've got my word on that."

"You gonna stop them from charging me with anything?"

Colby shrugged. "I can't do that without the cooperation of the US Attorney. We've got a call in to their office. But I can protect you from Yang."

Spencer pondered, then nodded. "Okay. You already know how I got into trouble with Yang."

Colby nodded. "Take it from where Yang got you to recruit your sister."

"I didn't expect her to get killed. I thought this would be a simple grab and run. She'd turn over the painting, and that would be the end of it."

"How'd Yang contact you?"

"He sent two of his thugs. I thought they were going to kill me, or at least beat the crap outta me. Instead, they just said, 'Yang wants to talk to you,' and then shoved me into their car. They took me to a restaurant in Chinatown. They took me in through the back, into an office. Yang was there, all smiling and sweetness and light. That scared me worse than anything. When he smiles, it means he wants something, and it isn't gonna be something you want to do."

"This was the Tang's restaurant?"

"I don't know who owns it. It's the place Yang hangs out when he's in town. Does it matter?"

"Not really. Go ahead."

"He says, 'You have a sister, don't you?'" I said yeah, but I begged him not to hurt her. I told him I'd get his money for him, but just leave my family alone. He said he didn't want to hurt my sister. An associate of his just needed her help and she was reluctant. That's when he told me about the Agincourts and the paintings. It didn't sound like any big deal, you know? I mean, what kind of security do those museums have? Old guys with walkie talkies, right?"

"So you agreed."

"Yeah. I told him I'd talk to Ellen. He said I'd better do more than talk. I'd better convince her to do this little favor. So I went to see her."

"How'd she react?"

"She wasn't happy, to say the least. I… I told her that Yang was going to kill me if she didn't help. Her first reaction was to say, 'Good.' She reminded me of all the interventions my family had for me, all the rehab clinics they'd sent me to, and how I'd thrown it all away just to go back to drugs."

"Let me guess. You told her this was the last time. That you were really going to change this time," Colby's voice was mocking.

"Yeah. And I meant it. I haven't touched drugs since then. Honest."

"We'll have you pee in a cup later. So I assume she bought it and agreed to help you."

"Yeah. It took a while, but she finally gave in. I told her it would be easy. She'd be safe. That nobody would get hurt." He looked down at his hands. "But she had to shoot that guy with her taser. That did it for her. She said she was so scared of getting caught, if she'd had a gun she would have killed him. She said she almost just dropped the painting and ran. But she was afraid for me…"

"So she kept her word to the Agincourts so Yang wouldn't kill you."

"Yeah," Spencer muttered as he rubbed his face, "and look what it got her."

"What did she do with the painting?"

"I don't really know what the arrangements were. I assume that somewhere along the line she was supposed to give it to the Agincourts or Yang or somebody. I know she had it when she called me. I don't know if she had blown them off or not."

"You remember what exactly the two of you said to each other?"

"It was the last time I talked to my sister. Yeah, I remember. She sounded like she was crying, or really upset, you know? She told me she thought she could do it but she couldn't. It made her realize stuff about herself that she didn't want to see. You know, that stuff about knowing she could have killed that guy if she had a gun. She told me…" his voice broke, "… she told me she was sorry. I told her she didn't need to apologize."

"But you were mad at her, weren't you?" Colby asked softly.

"No!" Spencer yelled, then he nodded. "Yeah, a little. I mean, she was so close. You know? She did the hard part of it. She just had to finish, and then I'd be in the clear."

"You told her that, didn't you? That's why she apologized."

"Yeah. I should be the one laying dead beside that dumpster. Not her. She was the good kid in the family, you know? I should be the one that's dead."

"So what else did the two of you say?"

"I asked her where she wanted to meet. She suggested the place. She told me to just take the painting and give it to Yang and then get some help. For the drugs. That was it."

"Did you tell anybody about that conversation?"

"You think I'm crazy? If Yang found out, me and Ellen would both be in more trouble. Yang would know she was a risk. He couldn't leave her alive, 'cause he'd be afraid she'd go to the cops."

"So what were you going to do with the painting?"

"She took me by surprise. I didn't know then what I was going to do. On the way to meet her, I figured it out. I was gonna ask her what her orders were. Who she was supposed to give it to. Then I'd take it to whoever it was and tell them she got confused with the instructions, and I offered to help her."

Colby snorted. "The junkie remembered the instructions and the teacher forgot."

"Hey, it wasn't a perfect solution, but I figured it'd work. It was the only thing I could come up with on such short notice. I figured when they got the painting, they wouldn't care about the details, you know?"

"What did you see when you got there to meet her?"

"First thing I saw was her car. The door was open, so I figured she got out and was waiting behind the dumpster or something."

"Anybody else around?"

Spencer shrugged. "Not that I noticed. I mean, it was late at night, you know, so the place wasn't really busy. I didn't see anybody near her car, or by the dumpster."

"Okay, so then what did you do?"

"I pulled up beside her car. On the passenger's side. I got out, and called her name. Not really yelling or anything, 'cause it looked like she wanted to keep it secret. Then I walked around to her door and looked in her car. Her purse was on the passenger's seat and the keys were in the ignition. I called her name again and then walked around the dumpster. That's when I found her."

"She was dead when you found her?" Colby asked. Spencer nodded. "Did you touch the body?"

"Yeah. It was dark. I… I couldn't see how bad she was hurt. I was feeling for her pulse, you know? But then I felt all that blood, and it was pretty obvious she was dead."

"What time was this?"

"About three in the morning. She wanted to meet at three, and I was a little late. I was worried she'd be mad."

"What did you do after you were sure she was dead? Look for the painting?"

"Yeah. Of course. She was dead. It wasn't going to make any difference, you know?"

"Sweet," Colby muttered. "Where'd you look?"

"I opened the back door of her car and looked around. Then I popped the trunk and checked in there. Nothing. So I figured whoever killed her stole the painting too."

"Other than a dead body and the lack of a painting, did you notice anything unusual?"

"Nothing."

"And you didn't even have the decency to call 911?"

"She was dead. What good was it going to do her?"

"So what'd you do?"

"I was scared. I knew I was really in trouble with Yang. I didn't know what to do."

"So you went home and got high."

Spencer buried his face in his hands. "Yeah."

"Did it help?"

"No. It didn't. It never does." He looked up at Colby, his eyes pleading. "I'm in a program now. And I'm going to kick it this time. For Ellen."

Colby opened the folder and took out photos of Felicia Agincourt and her two sons. "You recognize any of these people?"

Spencer took his time looking at the pictures. Finally he shook his head. "No. Who are they? Were they involved in this whole art theft thing?

"Let's just say they're persons of interest in the murder of Ellen Davis."


	47. Chapter 47

After Donald Spencer had been taken into custody 'for his own good,' the team congregated around Don's desk. David glanced around nervously then turned to Don. "I'm expecting to see the boss any minute, wondering why we've got the two of you in here when you're supposed to be out on medical leave."

Don grinned. "Agent Sinclair, are you asking us to leave?"

"Not me. But I'm afraid Wright will."

"If he comes, I'll just tell him I stopped by to give my statement," Don said with a shrug. "Meanwhile, let's get back to solving this case. What did you think of Spencer's statements?"

David shrugged. "He seemed sincere. But there's something that doesn't make sense. He said Yang needed Ellen Davis to help with the painting theft. Why Ellen? She was just a teacher, right? No criminal record. Did she know about paintings?"

Don pressed a few keys on his computer and pulled up the information they had on Ellen Davis. "Not unless it was a hobby. She's got no education or work experience with paintings."

"So why would the Agincourts need her help?" Colby asked. "And according to Spencer, Yang said that they had already approached her and she was reluctant."

"It doesn't make sense," Don murmured. "If I were in charge of this case," he grinned at David, "I'd have another talk with the Agincourt family."

David grinned. "Just what I was going to suggest. Megan, why don't you and I go visit Francis and Felicia? Colby and Liz can talk to Fred."

"What about me?" Don asked. When Charlie nudged him, he added, "I mean us."

David shrugged. "What about you? You're not on this case."

"Charlie can come with us," Liz said. "He and Fred seemed to get along pretty well."

"Why don't we bring Don along with us, Boss?" Megan said. "He may not be on the case, but he does seem to have some good ideas."

-------------------

Fred Agincourt was sitting up in bed eating what the hospital ambiguously called a 'soft diet.' A woman sat beside him, watching his every move, waiting to jump in and help if necessary. Colby knocked on the door frame. "Excuse us." He held up his badge. "Could we speak with you for a minute, Mr. Agincourt?"

"Please, come in," Fred shoved the tray aside. "This is my wife, Emily. Emily, Agents Granger and Warner, and Dr. Eppes were there when I was shot. Dr. Eppes saved my life."

Charlie blushed and looked down at his feet. "That's overstating it more than just a bit."

"You're too modest," Fred said. "Are there enough chairs…?"

Emily stood, "Here, take my seat. If it's okay with you, Honey, I'm going downstairs to get a bite to eat."

Fred grinned. "You can finish this if you'd like."

Emily laughed. "No, thanks. That's all yours." She took Charlie's hand. "Thank you, Dr. Eppes." She hushed him when he started to object. "Fred says you saved his life and I believe him." She left before Charlie could say anything else.

Fred watched as she left, then turned to Colby. "Why don't you close the door?"

After Colby had closed the door, he, Liz and Charlie pulled chairs up next to Fred's bed. Liz said, "Last time I talked to you, you were arranging to meet your lawyer. Have you met with him yet?"

"Yes, I have. He told me you had a warrant for the names of the students in my program. He contacted the school, and they're preparing the list with the students' names and contact information. Would you like me to check on their progress?"

"That's okay. What did he think about us talking to you?"

Fred smiled. "He said he'd rather be in the room whenever you talk to me. I guess I should call him now, but I really have nothing to hide."

Charlie glanced at the two agents. "At the risk of getting them angry at me, I think you'd be better off listening to him."

"Charlie…" Colby objected.

"I've learned that having nothing to hide is not necessarily sufficient protection." He shrugged at Colby. "Sorry. I guess it comes from having a father who was into civil disobedience."

"It's okay," Fred said. "I've already told him I want to do everything I can do to help you. I know what you want to talk to me about. The theft ring, right?"

Colby said, "Actually, we've got that pretty much sewn up. We're more interested in how Ellen Davis ended up dead beside a dumpster."

"Poor Ellen," Fred sighed. "She didn't deserve any of this. I should have suspected what Frank and Mom were up to, but, honestly, I didn't. Not until Frank called me, just before I was shot." He looked up at Colby. "You think one of us shot poor Ellen?"

Colby nodded. "We're investigating all possibilities. Did Ellen talk to you at all about the theft?"

Fred sighed. "It was really strange. She called me that night. The night the painting was stolen. She said she was in a lot of trouble. Her brother had gotten her into something she never should have been involved in. Just before she hung up she said, 'I hope you're not involved in this.' Being totally oblivious to this whole mess, I asked her, 'Involved in what?' She just said, 'I hope you're not. I've always respected you.' Then she hung up. That was the last I heard from her."

"What did you think she was talking about?" Liz asked. "You said you had no idea Frank and Felicia were involved in this."

"I really didn't know. I knew Ellen's brother was a troublemaker. I guess I just figured she didn't know who to trust any more. Like I said, it didn't make sense to me."

Liz didn't look convinced, but she let it drop. "Did she say what she planned on doing?"

Fred shook his head. "She just said, 'He got me into this. He's going to have to get me out. I can't take it any more.'"

Colby leaned forward. "Did you tell anybody about the call?"

"I probably mentioned it to Emily, but nobody else until now. Why?"

Colby stood and pulled out his cell phone. "Excuse me a minute." He turned to Liz. "I'm going to see if Ellen made any other phone calls that night. Somehow her murderer knew where she was going."

Francis Agincourt glanced up as David and Don entered the interrogation room. "They told me I had visitors. You're not visitors."

David pulled out a chair across the table from Agincourt and sat. "Did you talk to Ellen Davis after she stole the painting?"

Agincourt opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head. "I'm not saying anything without my attorney."

"He's on his way," David said.

"Then we'll wait until he gets here."

"Okay. We'll go next door and talk to your mother first," David stood. "We'll be back."

"Go ahead. This whole mess was her idea anyway."

Don pulled out a chair and sat down. "If that's the case, why don't you just tell us about it? If she really was the mastermind behind this whole thing, we could work with the prosecutors to get you a lower sentence."

Agincourt hesitated, then finally said. "I can do that. But not until my attorney gets here." He glanced at David. "You want to call him now?"

Megan stood in the doorway of the observation room as David and Don entered the hallway. "Well, that was short, but interesting," she said with a smirk.

David closed the door behind them and shook his head. "I can't believe he's going to throw his mother under the bus."

"From what I've seen, she'd do the same to him," Don said.

David pulled out his cell phone. "I'm going to call his lawyer now and get him over here. We've got to get this thing wrapped up."

"Yeah," Megan said, "we'd better finish It up before the boss gets back to work." As David spoke to the lawyer, Megan turned to Don. "How are you feeling, Boss?"

"Sore. Tired. But this sure beats sitting at Charlie's house being mother henned by Dad."

"Aw, your Dad's a great guy. I wish I had a dad like him."

David closed his phone. "Okay. He'll be here in twenty minutes."

"That fast? In LA?" Megan shook her head. "You can't get anywhere in twenty minutes."

"He's across the street," David said with a grin. "Even so, I'm guessing it'll take him a half hour. That gives us plenty of time to speak with Mommie Dearest."

Felicia Agincourt looked up as David and Megan entered the room. Don sat at the edge of his seat in the observation room.

"Well, hello," Felicia said, smiling brightly. "I was wondering how long I would have to wait."

Megan sat across from her and leaned her elbows on the table. "Why? You going somewhere?"

David remained standing. "We were visiting with your son. It was a very fruitful visit."

Felicia's smile faded. "Which son? I have two, you know."

"Why, Francis, of course. He's in the interrogation room next door," David said.

"And once his lawyer arrives, we're going to have an even more interesting discussion," Megan added.

"If you're having so much fun talking to Francis, why bother with me?"

"We thought we'd give you a chance to tell us your side of the story before the deal is finalized with Francis." David pulled out a chair and sat down. "His lawyer will be here in a half hour or so. Plenty of time for you to tell us about the whole art theft thing."

"You got nothing," Felicia's smile returned. "You're trying to play one of us against the other. Well, it's not going to work. I don't know anything about…" David's cell phone chirped. "You need to get that, Agent?"

David glanced at the display. His eyes widened as he read a text message. When he closed his phone again, he leaned across the table. "Why did Ellen Davis call you just before she was killed?"

Felicia blinked, then composed her expression. "Who?"

"Don't give me that. You know who Ellen Davis is. We've got her phone records and she not only called your number, she had an eighteen minute conversation with you, so we're pretty sure it wasn't a wrong number. So, I repeat, why did Ellen Davis call you just before she was killed?"

Felicia looked down at her hands. "My son is going to turn against me?" She looked up at Megan, tears in her eyes. "How could he do that? He was in it as deep as I was."

"But the whole thing was your idea, wasn't it?" Megan asked softly. "And it wasn't just for the money, was it?"

"Of course not," Felicia scoffed. "The money was just a nice bonus. Well, for my darling son, money was the only reason for the thefts. But for me it was about the art."

"Go on," Megan encouraged.

"Museums and so-called art experts have ruined art." She glanced at David. "I recognized the world famous Dr. Bennington Cole with you when you arrested me. He's part of the problem, with all his books and his 'authenticating.' Because of people like him, the talented artist can't break into the field. People like him and dealers like that parasite Grant Catalino artificially inflate the prices of art and get 'investors' involved. Buyers don't want the great little painting by the local artist who just might be the next John Singer Sargent. They're not interested in the avant garde sculpture that decades from now might be worth a million dollars. All they want is Van Gogh and Degas."

"You paint?" David asked.

Felicia nodded. "But I couldn't make enough money to support myself, so I had to resort to cleaning and restoring all those investment pieces owned by people who wouldn't even look twice at my work."

"So why did you insist on getting Ellen Davis involved?" Megan asked.

"Oh, that wasn't my idea. That was Francis. He had a crush on Ellen. The idiot hoped that if he got her involved in our little team, he'd have a chance with her. But all Ellen cared about was that husband of hers and getting her junkie brother out of trouble. I honestly don't think she even noticed that Francis was interested in her."

"Why did she call you?" David asked.

"She wanted out. She told me she was going to give the Van Gogh to her brother so he could take it to our buyer. But did not want to hang onto it for another minute. She just wanted to let me know what she was doing. She told me not to worry. Yang would get his painting, and we wouldn't be hurt by her decision. She was always a sweet girl."

"So why did you kill her?" Megan asked.

Felicia's head whipped up and she scowled at Megan. "Just because I talked to her doesn't mean I killed her. I had no reason to kill her. She wasn't going to tell anyone. She didn't think the police had any idea who she was. And if they did figure out it was her, she insisted she would take the fall and do the time. Nobody was seriously injured, so she figured she would probably not even get jail time."

"So who had a reason to kill her?" Megan asked. "You were the last person she called."

"She must have called someone else," Felicia insisted.

"You told Francis, didn't you?" Megan leaned forward and made eye contact with Felicia. "Francis, who had a crush on her. Francis, who realized he was never going to have her."

David nodded slowly. "Francis, who didn't believe that she wouldn't tell the cops about your little side business."

"Francis, who is waiting for the chance right now to hang his own mother out to dry," Megan added.

Felicia sighed and buried her face in her hands. "He was with me when she called. He asked what was going on and I didn't see any reason not to tell him."

"She told you where she was meeting her brother?" David asked.

"Yes. I'm sure I mentioned it to Francis. When I learned that Ellen was dead and the painting was missing, I knew it was Francis. But when I confronted him, he told me that playing it out his way was the only way we could get out of it. Then that FBI agent got shot. The kid's gun wasn't supposed to be loaded. My plan was to avoid lethal force. The penalties wouldn't be that severe if nobody was seriously injured."

"So who loaded the gun?" David asked.

Felicia shrugged. "I don't see why anybody would want to load the gun. There was nothing to be gained and everything to lose."


	48. Chapter 48

Don met Megan and David in the corridor outside of the interrogation rooms. "We have to talk to her," he said softly, gnawing at his lower lip.

"Felicia? We just finished…"

"No. The little girl who shot me. I think she knew the gun was loaded. She's not stupid. She knew she had a gun, not a taser. We need to see her after we finish with Francis."

David and Megan exchanged worried glances. "I don't think that's a good idea," Megan said. "You're not looking so good, Don."

"Gee, thanks," Don smiled feebly. He turned to David, "I need to see her, David. Maybe seeing me will shake her up."

"I don't know," Megan said. "From what I've read in the files, she may be a sociopath. She doesn't seem to feel any guilt about shooting you. Your appearance may not have any effect on her."

"You could be right. But I still want to do this. David?"

David sighed. "She was released into her mother's custody."

"Released?" Don was incredulous. "After shooting a federal agent and participating in a felony armed robbery?"

David shrugged. "What can I say? They're lawyered up. She's just a kid. The judge apparently didn't feel that she was a flight risk. Brickle didn't argue." He met Don's gaze and pulled out his phone. "I'll make the arrangements."

"Alvin Brickle is the AUSA on the case?" Megan asked.

"Yeah," David said. "Colby let me know that when he called about Ellen's phone records."

"At least it's not Robin," Megan said, grinning at Don.

Colby slipped his phone back into his pocket and reentered Fred's hospital room. Charlie and Fred were talking animatedly. Liz looked up. "Granger! You gotta help me. They're talking math."

Colby chuckled. "You get two teachers together, what do you expect? Ellen made one more call we didn't know about. She called Felicia Agincourt."

Fred's head snapped up. "What? She called my mom? What for?"

"I don't know that yet. I thought you might have some idea."

Fred studied his hands and then appeared to make up his mind. He looked back up at Colby. "Maybe she just wanted to explain what she was doing with the painting. Ellen wasn't one to leave loose ends."

Colby nodded. "Makes sense. I called David and told him about the phone call. He's with Felicia and Francis now, so maybe he can figure out what happened."

"Francis had the hots for Ellen. That's why he wanted her involved in this. Maybe Ellen was afraid of what he'd do to her if he knew she was backing out."

Liz and Colby exchanged glances. Liz said, "Sounds like motive to me. And we know Francis had the painting. He tried to sell it to that art dealer."

Colby rubbed his eyes. "And then the painting ended up being sold to a pawn broker by Ellen's nephew. How the heck did Greg get it?"

Liz stood. "Come on, Charlie. I think we should let Mr. Agincourt get some rest."

Charlie stood and shifted his arm in his sling. "It was nice talking with you, Fred. You have my card, so please call me if you want a guest speaker for your group."

"Thanks, Charlie. I'll definitely call you. It would be great to have someone who can make math interesting for the kids."

Liz rested a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "I've learned more math in the year or so I've known Charlie than I learned in all my years of school."

Charlie looked at Liz, wide eyed, "Really? And here I thought you were just waiting for the punchline."

"What can I say? You're teaching me in spite of myself." She turned to Colby. "So, Granger, where do we go from here?"

"Why don't we drop Charlie off at home and head back to the office?"

"I'd like to come to the office with you." He held up his hand as Colby began to protest. "We can wait for the others to get back and then Don and I can go home together. Meanwhile, I can see if there's anything I've missed in my calculations."

Colby laughed. "Okay. I know better than to argue with an Eppes."

While they waited for Francis Agincourt's lawyer, David called Colby and recounted the information they had received from Felicia. "I think it's all falling into place," he said when he had finished.

"Fred confirmed that Francis had the hots for Ellen," Colby said. "I think you're right about it falling into place."

"Don thinks we need to go talk to the kid who shot him," David said with a sigh.

"Cary Ryan?" Colby said. "Her lawyer is a real pit bull. Good luck."

"A pit bull, huh?" David chuckled. "Have you seen Don when he's got his mind made up? He thinks the kid – her name's Cary? He thinks she knew the gun was loaded."

"Makes sense. Why would she pull the trigger if she knew it wasn't loaded? She'd just wave it and threaten. But Don wants to confront her himself? I don't know if that makes sense."

"Me either." David glanced at Don, who was listening intently. "But I've learned that Don's instincts are usually right."

"Usually?" Don raised his eyebrows. "Usually?"

David rolled his eyes and turned his back on Don. "We're going to talk to Francis Agincourt and his lawyer, then wrap things up with Felicia. Then I'm going to call Cary Ryan's attorney and see if we can speak with her."

"Good luck."

David closed his phone and turned back to face Don and Megan. "Fred confirms what Felicia said about Francis and Ellen."

"And Colby agrees with you that I'm crazy to want to confront the kid," Don said, grinning.

"Yeah, but we both agree that your instincts are usually right."

"I take issue with the term 'usually,'" Don said.

"I know. But looking back at the Buck Winters thing…"

"And the whole thing with Charlie and the Pakistani professors," Megan added.

"Hey, that one was out of my hands. But I get your point. Just humor me on this. If it looks like it's going to turn out bad, we'll just leave."

"Agent Sinclair?" a well-dressed man walked toward them. "I'm Mr. Agincourt's attorney, Mike Alexander."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Alexander," David shook hands with the lawyer. "Have you met Special Agents Megan Reeves and Don Eppes?"

Alexander shook hands with the other agents. "Megan, nice to meet you. Don, we haven't met, but I'm aware of your reputation." He turned back to David. "Who's the AUSA on this case?"

"Alvin Brickle for now. With so many defendants, though, the US Attorney might have to assign someone else."

Alexander nodded. "Alvin's a good guy. Reasonable. Okay, you ready to speak with Mr. Agincourt?" He checked his watch. "I have to be back in court in an hour."

"This'll be quick," David said. "Your client's mother and brother have been a little more forthcoming than your client."

Alexander regarded David with narrowed eyes. "Then it's a good thing I'm here to protect him."

Mike Alexander scowled as David filled him in on the information they had gotten from Felicia and Fred. "So they're throwing my client under the bus. Does he know this?"

"Not yet. We spoke with them after we spoke with him," David said. "Are you counsel for the other two?"

"No. It looks like that's a good thing." Alexander glanced at his watch. "Can we go see my client now?"

"Sure," David said, opening the interrogation room door. "Right in here."

Francis Agincourt looked up as the door opened and the agents walked in with his attorney. "Mike," he said, standing. "Am I glad to see you."

"How are you doing, Frank?" Alexander shook hands with his client. "Are they treating you all right?"

"As well as can be expected," Agincourt said. "No rubber hoses. Yet. Here, have a seat."

"Agent Sinclair, I'd like to meet in private with my client for a moment," Alexander said, taking a seat.

"That's not necessary," Francis said. "I've decided to cooperate. My mom was responsible for this whole mess, and I'm ready to help in her prosecution."

"Frank, listen, they've gotten your brother and mother to talk. They're implicating you in the thefts and in the murder of Ellen Davis. I think we need to talk."

"What the heck!?" Francis stared at Don. "You said you'd work with the prosecutors to get me a lower sentence."

"That was before we found out you killed Ellen Davis," Don said softly. "That changes things."

"I loved her," Francis whined. "I … I didn't want to kill her, but she was going to ruin everything…"

"Shut up, Frank," Alexander yelled. "Agents, please leave now."

"We'll be outside," David said. "Just knock when you're ready to leave."

Outside of the interrogation room, David pulled out his phone. "I'm going to get Alvin Brickle over here. I think we're beyond the interrogation phase at this point. Then I'll call the Ryans and see if we can set up a visit. Don, why don't you go sit down? You're looking a little peaked."

Don grinned. "I'll find someplace the AD won't find me."

"How about we go to the break room, Don?" Megan asked, "That way the boss can't accuse you of working."

"But he'll think you're goofing off," Don chuckled.

Once they were settled in the break room with mediocre cups of coffee, Megan said, "Are you sure you're up to seeing this kid, Don?"

Don rubbed his stomach. "I hope so. I know it's not going to be easy, Megan. Just before she shot me, I noticed her eyes. She had the eyes of a cold-blooded hitman. For such a young kid, it was unsettling."

"So why subject yourself to being in the same room with her?"

Don took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't really know. I just have this gut feeling that I need to talk with her. I guess I want to find out why she did it. How she got to be so …"

"Cruel?" Megan finished for him. "How old is she?"

"I don't remember. Thirteen? Fourteen?"

"Kids at that age do tend to be self-centered. If she thought you were a threat, she might have felt justified in shooting you. I read through her statements. She insisted she didn't know the gun was loaded. But, Don, she shot you twice. She may not have known the gun was loaded when she fired it the first time, but she sure as hell knew the second time."

"Was there any background on her? Anything that says how she learned gun handling skills?"

"Her dad's a hunter. He taught his kids basic gun safety. And his darling daughter was a good student."

"A hunter? You don't see too many of them around any more."

"No, especially in LA. But I guess he's not from around these parts."

David entered the break room, putting his phone away. "Brickle's on the way over. The Agincourts are heading back to their cells, Frank's lawyer is waiting for Brickle, and Felicia's lawyer is on the way. And we lucked out with Cary Ryan. Her lawyer is already at their house. He's going to wait for us."

Don stood and tossed his half empty coffee cup into the trash. "Great. Let's stop and get some decent coffee on the way."

As they exited the elevator on the ground floor, they caught sight of Charlie, Liz and Colby. "Hey, Bro," Charlie said. "You going home?"

"Not quite yet. You go ahead without me."

"I've got some things I want to finish up here. Where are you going?"

"We're on the way to interview the kid who shot me," Don said. "And before you say anything, yeah, I'm sure I want to do this."

"Okay," Charlie said. "You know what you're doing." He glanced at David and Megan. "He does know what he's doing, right?"

"We're hoping so," Megan said. "If he gives us any trouble, David and I can take him."

"I know what I'm doing. And you can only 'take' me because I'm injured."

"I don't know, Don, she's pretty good with that krav magaa stuff," David chuckled. "Charlie, we'll bring him back safe and sound."

The Ryans lived in a white picket fenced ranch house in a quietly upscale neighborhood on the fringe of the city. The pair of matching brand new Lexuses in the driveway attested to the income level of the inhabitants. Behind the Lexuses was a BMW which most likely belonged to their attorney. David pulled in behind the BMW.

Megan nodded at the cars as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Looks like Daddy can afford the very best for his daughter."

"Yep. Well, let's see what her lawyer has prepared her to say," David muttered.

Before David could ring the doorbell, a man in a three pieced suit opened the front door. "Agent Sinclair? I'm Lance Bosworth, the Ryans' attorney."

David shook Bosworth's hand. "Thank you for letting us speak with your client."

"You're welcome. The Ryans are only interested in seeing justice done. Please, come in." He led the way to the living room, where Cary Ryan sat, flanked by her parents. Bosworth made the introductions and invited the agents to sit down. "These agents are here to hear your side of what happened, Cary. Answer their questions honestly, honey."

Cary nodded, not taking her eyes from Don. "I will. Um… Could I say something first?"

David nodded. "Please, go ahead."

"Thank you," Cary's voice was barely audible. "I… I just wanted to say I'm sorry." She looked nervously at Bosworth. "Is it okay to say that?"

"Yes, it is," Bosworth said. He looked at Don. "I explained to her that everybody already knows she shot you. That's not going to be a question in the court. We need to establish the reasons she did what she did."

Cary nodded. "I know what I did was wrong." She looked again Don, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry I hurt you. What did you want to know?"

"Cary," David said, drawing her attention away from Don, "we've got Mr. Agincourt under arrest, and if we have our way, he'll go to jail for a long time. You seem like a good kid. Why'd you get involved in this whole thing?"

"I…" she looked at her mother.

Mrs. Ryan squeezed her daughter's hand. "Tell them."

"I like this boy, and he was in this after school group. He never talked to me much, but one day, he said he was in this really cool group and asked me if I wanted to join. Of course I said yes."

"Who wouldn't?" Megan said, smiling. "What's his name?"

Cary glanced nervously at Bosworth, who nodded. "Lance Foreman. He's in my grade, but he's one of the cool kids, you know?"

"Yeah," Megan said, "I know. And being with him, you'd be cool too."

"Yeah. And he's so hot." Cary giggled. "I guess it's cool to be hot." She grew serious again. "I'm sorry. What did you want to know?"

"You said you didn't know the gun was loaded," David said. "Yet I understand your dad taught you gun safety."

Cary's lips trembled and she looked down at her hands. "I lied. I loaded the gun. A bunch of us kids were talking. Mr. Agincourt made it sound like taking the paintings was going to be real easy. Maybe the first time, yeah. But we were thinking that the cops knew about the way we were stealing the paintings, and one of these days they were going to be ready for us. I was afraid. So I loaded the gun. For protection." She glanced nervously at Don. "I … I knew what I was doing, kind of. I just didn't think I would hurt a real person. You know?"

"I know," Don said softly. "Go on."

"I took the gun from Dad's gun safe. I know where he keeps the key. Mr. Agincourt wanted me to use a taser, but you can only use them once. I figured if there were cops, it wouldn't be just one."

Megan leaned forward. "So you were prepared to take out a number of officers?"

Cary nodded miserably. "But after I shot Agent Eppes, I knew it was wrong, what I did. I hurt somebody."

"You shot him twice," David said. "It took you two shots to figure out you hurt someone?"

"I knew after the first shot. I just… I was scared." The tears in her eyes overflowed. "I'm sorry."


	49. Chapter 49

Don sat silently in the back seat while David drove them back to the FBI office. Megan turned around. "You okay, Don?"

"Yeah." Don was silent for a few long moments, then said, "I think I'm ready to go home."

"Okay," David said. "Let's pick Charlie up at the office, and then I'll drive both of you home."

"Thanks," Don said quietly. He watched out the window until he saw the high rises of downtown. Finally, he said, "Megan, what did you think of what Cary Ryan had to say?"

"I think she was telling the truth. How about you?"

Don nodded. "I agree. When we were in high school, I was walking down the hall with a buddy of mine, and he just stopped. He had this goofy look on his face, and he pointed at the other students. Then he said the weirdest thing. He said, 'You know, these are all people. They all have thoughts and feelings and opinions different from mine.'"

"What did you say?" Megan asked.

"Not much. I thought he was a little nuts, but in a way I understood what he meant. We usually think of people as things in our world – they help us or get in our way or they just … exist."

"And you were in Cary's way," Megan said softly. "It sounds like she hasn't gotten the inspiration your buddy got."

"No," Don said softly. "I don't think she's gotten the message yet."

David pulled into his parking spot. "What do you want to bet Granger and Liz are sitting back with their feet up leaving all the paperwork for us?"

"Nah," Don said. "Charlie's with them. He's lecturing them about something or other, and they're dozing off, wishing they were doing paperwork."

"Come on," Megan said, taking Don's arm. "Let's go rescue our fellow agents." She turned to face David. "You're talking paperwork. Does that mean our part in this little caper is about finished?"

"Well, Brickle's involved now. That's usually the point where we bow out and let the esquires handle things. I think we've arrested about everyone we're going to arrest."

Don's brow furrowed in concentration. "We know who masterminded the whole thing. We know who killed Ellen Davis. We've got a whole bunch of Chinese gangsters for Betty Liu to interrogate. We've got one of the paintings."

"We're missing two paintings," David pursed his lips. "Damn. We're not done yet."

Don laughed. "Sorry, Boss. Hey, if Charlie isn't too busy, maybe he can cook up some algorithm to help us find the paintings."

"Or we could get out the brass knuckles and visit an Agincourt or two," David growled.

"I'd go with Charlie first and leave the brass knuckles for a last resort," Megan laughed.

____________

"And so, Larry and I decided to attack the problem from a whole different…" Charlie turned from his white board as the others entered. "Hey, I was just telling Colby and Liz about…"

"You can finish up later," Don said. "We were wondering if you could help us find the two missing paintings."

Charlie pondered for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I may be able to help you narrow it down." He turned back to the white board and began writing.

While Charlie's back was turned, Liz and Colby made their escape and Don grinned at David. "Told you."

"Told him what?" Charlie paused in his writing and glanced at Don.

"Uh, that you'd be able to help. That's all," Don said. "You think you can work on this at home?"

"Sure." Charlie studied Don's face. "You okay?"

"A little tired and sore, that's all."

Megan chuckled. "He just doesn't want to help with the paperwork."

"He's on medical leave," David said. "Which reminds me. It's about time I got these two home. Mr. Eppes is probably wondering where they are."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I'm surprised he hasn't called yet. Okay, let me pack up my things and I'll be ready.

The moment David's SUV pulled into the driveway, the front door opened, and Alan Eppes stood waiting. David smiled as he, Don and Charlie walked to the house. "Mr. Eppes," he said, "I've brought your boys home safe and sound."

"I appreciate that, David," Alan said as he gave his boys a quick visual examination. "Come on in. David, have you eaten?"

David thought for a moment and said, "It's been a while."

A few minutes later, Alan put a salad and bread on the dining room table. "The lasagna will be out in a few minutes. What would you like to drink?"

Don stood. "Sit, Dad. We're not invalids. David, Chuck, what would you guys like to drink?"

Once Don had brought everyone's drinks, he sat back down and avoided his father's piercing gaze. Finally, he looked up. "What?"

"Are you okay, Donnie? You seem upset."

Charlie looked up from his food. "He went to see the little girl who shot him."

"What? Why?" Alan sputtered. "Hasn't she put you through enough?"

Don shrugged. "I don't know, Dad. I felt I needed to see her. To find out what was going through her head."

"And how'd that work out for you?" Alan said gently. "It looks like it's got you upset."

"I think she was just scared." He grinned. "Don't worry. I'm not going soft. I'm not going to beg the judge to drop the charges or anything stupid like that. She did what she did. She knew it was wrong. And she needs to be punished for it. But she was supposed to have a taser, not a gun. She was talking with some of the other kids and they were all worried that we would catch on to what they were doing. She decided a taser wouldn't be much help because you can only use it once, so she took the gun from her dad's gun locker."

"And the rest is history," Alan said.

"Yeah," Don said. "So, yeah, it was a kind of upsetting experience. But it's over and I'm glad I talked to her. She's got a good, supportive family, and a great lawyer. She'll be okay. And I think she really understood the magnitude of what she had done. Not just shooting a law enforcement officer, but hurting another human being."

Alan nodded slowly. "That's good then. So, does this mean you're finally wrapping up this case?"

David took a sip of coffee. "Yes, we're just about finished. We've got a couple of missing paintings to find, but Charlie's going to help us with that. We've got enough perpetrators in jail to keep the court system busy for quite a while. But, yeah, I'd say we're about done."

"Good," Alan said. "It seems like this case has gone on for years."

"It does. But it's only been a few days," Don reached for the salad bowl.

"Must be Einstein's theory of relativity," David said. "Didn't that have something to do with time?"

"Well, actually," Charlie opened his notebook and grabbed a pencil.

"Now you've done it, Sinclair!" Don said with a gusty sigh. "Maybe I'll eat my lunch inside. I wonder if there are any good games on."

---------------------------------

A few weeks later, a rowdy crew sat in the living room of the beautiful craftsman the Eppes men called home. Millie and Alan were passing around beer and champagne. The television was on, and for once it wasn't tuned to a sporting event. Instead, it was tuned to the local news channel.

Alan stopped what he was doing and glanced nervously at the TV. "Is it on yet?"

Charlie turned from nuzzling Amita's cheek. "Not yet, Dad. I don't know what the big deal is."

"The big deal, my son, is that we are going to be on the news."

"Is the DVR set?" Megan asked. "You'll want to preserve this moment forever."

"I'm certain the television station would be able to provide them with copies of the report," Larry said.

"Hey, here it is," David pointed at the screen.

Don grabbed the remote from Charlie and turned up the volume as a graphic appeared on the screen.

"Artful Dodgers?" Colby smirked. "That's what they're calling this case?"

"Shhhhh," Liz hushed. "I want to see what she's going to say."

The graphic shifted to a spot over the anchor's right shoulder and she smiled at the camera. "Today in Los Angeles Federal Court, a case reminiscent of a Dickens story was resolved. Francis and Felicia Agincourt, seen here leaving the court, the 'Fagins' in this particular Dickens novel, were convicted of three charges of stealing valuable art works. While the art works involved were important, the most interesting aspect of this case was the method they used to steal them."

The scene shifted to a group of children, surrounded by lawyers and family members. "The Agincourts enlisted the aid of these children as well as, among others, three skydivers to accomplish their task. The Agincourts were also convicted of twenty nine charges of illegally dealing with a minor and endangering the welfare of a child. For the most part, these children were not charged."

The camera focused on Cary Ryan. "However, Cary Ryan, thirteen, was charged as an adult in the shooting of FBI Special Agent Don Eppes during one of the robberies. Her lawyer and Assistant US Attorney Alvin Brickle, negotiated a plea deal whereby Ms. Ryan would be sentenced to six months in a juvenile facility, followed by probation until she reaches the age of eighteen."

The camera switched to Alan, Charlie and Don exiting the court room together. "Our reporter, Tiffany Baxter, asked Special Agent Eppes what he thought of the plea bargain."

Tiffany approached the Eppes with a microphone in hand. "Agent Eppes!"

The men stopped and Don said, "Yes?"

"You must have mixed feelings about these convictions today…"

Don looked confused. "Mixed feelings? Why? Justice was done. The perpetrators of this series of crimes were convicted."

"But the girl who shot you plea bargained her way out…"

"I fully support the plea bargain. AUSA Brickle consulted me throughout the process, and I think what was done was the best for everyone involved. Cary is just a kid. She knows what she did was wrong, and she's learned from it. I'm satisfied."

Tiffany turned to Charlie. "And this is the eminent Cal Sci professor, Dr. Charles Eppes. Dr. Eppes, I understand you were instrumental in solving this case."

Charlie glanced nervously at the camera. "I… uh… As a consultant, I did everything I could to help the FBI solve this case."

"Am I right in understanding that you used math to solve this crime?"

Charlie chuckled. "You don't have to make it sound like voodoo or black magic. The FBI uses mathematicians for many cases. Social networking was especially useful in this case, but there were many other applications…"

Tiffany pulled the microphone back. "Thank you, Dr. Eppes. Back to you, Sarah."

As the anchor moved on to the next story, the room erupted in applause. When it was quiet again, Charlie muttered, "She didn't let me explain the interesting part."

Amita patted him on the cheek. "At least it went better than your past television appearances."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me."

Liz turned to Charlie. "Maybe you just need to learn to condense your comments into sound bites."

"Yeah," Colby said, "you can practice around the office. The next time you have some magic formula for us, try to say it in fifteen seconds."

"Or less," David added.

"In all my years of knowing Charlie, I don't think he's ever said anything in fewer than fifteen seconds," Megan said.

"Gee, thanks, guys. Maybe I'll go back to working with LAPD. They at least appreciated me," Charlie tried to feign a pout, but couldn't quite pull it off.

"Hey, Buddy," Don reached across Amita and ruffled Charlie's hair. "You know we appreciate you. Otherwise we wouldn't pay you the big bucks. Seriously, we got the bad guys, we even recovered all of the paintings."

"Brickle's deal with Francis had a little more to do with that…"

"Yeah, but your math showed us that Francis was the one to go after."

Alan lifted his champagne glass. "To the math, the US Attorney, and good old fashioned investigation. I'd say it was a team that brought the bad guys to justice."

Don raised his glass. "To teamwork."

"To teamwork!" the others said, raising their glasses.

"And to champagne. Plenty of champagne," Charlie said.

THE END


End file.
